Perchance to Dream

Elle Joyner · Aug 2, 2017

PERCH◬NCE TO DRE⟁M

In Dreams As In the Real World...Nothing is Ever Quite What it Seems
-- Dean Koontz

Code by Elle Joyner

OOC || CS || INFO || IC

Dolly looked over the edge of the building and fought the sudden urge to throw up. It was more difficult than she would have liked, but there was a reminder in the back of her mind that being discovered in a puddle of vomit would exceeding mortifying, and it was enough to quell the discomfort in her stomach. Three minutes remained until the deadline. Her watch ticked away, the seconds zipping by at double speed, in time with the pounding of her heart.

He'd promised her it would work. He's assured her it was a guarantee… Still, nothing was a sure thing except death and taxes. Ironic, all things considered.

A frown across the crease of her brow, transitioning down the smooth bow of her mouth, Dolly clutched the letter tightly in her hand. The instructions were clear and concise. All it would take was a little bit of trust. Well, maybe not a little bit... He was a stranger, and if his proof had not been so impossible to ignore, she might have laughed off the idea.

Two minutes…

Dolly felt her stomach clench again as she stepped up on the ledge and grit her teeth. She'd always liked her teeth – they weren't perfect… not like the people you saw on television or in the theaters, but they were nice. Straight, white, no over bite… no chips or cracks or gaps. She wondered, idly, if she'd still have all her teeth when she landed. It would be awful, a face full of broken porcelain.

Her breath collapsing into a sigh, she shoved the letter into the pocket of her pants. She had pressed them that morning - perfect creases down the length of her long, narrow legs. It seems silly, now. Who would even notice? Would they find her and remark that 'at least she had pressed her linen pantsuit'? Not if she didn't have any teeth left, they wouldn't...

When the idea had first been presented, she hadn't thought twice about volunteering. All her life, she'd wanted to be a part of something – She'd felt the wrongness, like an ever-present fog in the air, and she had wanted so badly to change it. Now, looking down at what waited for her, she wondered if she'd made a mistake.

He'd promised it wouldn't hurt. One minute to go…

Shuffling forward, the tips of her black saddle shoes met the edge of stone barricade. She'd called her mother the night before. There were, she was sure, more difficult conversations out there, but it had certainly not felt like it, at the time. She hadn't, of course, told Mother everything. The letter had specified… Tell No One. And while she herself knew the context of the plan, the absolute importance of it being carried out to the very last second, somehow, she'd still felt like she'd be remiss in not saying goodbye.

Heart pounding, Dolly looked down at the world below, and as her thoughts came to a head she felt the burden of tears building, blurring her vision. The world swam out of focus, a watercolor streak of dull greys and blues, of the greens in the courtyard...

10 seconds.

She inched closer to the edge… her legs quivering as she stepped up on the small retaining wall. A rush of wind brought a shiver the length of her spine.

9 seconds…

Her breath caught on a sob and the letter slipped from her grasp, floating away on that breeze.

8… 7… 6... 5 seconds…

Maybe she'd pass out on the way down. Maybe she'd get to keep her teeth...

4… 3… 2…

Her watch buzzed and shutting her eyes, Dolly stepped off the roof, into thin air.

Scene Objective: A Body in the Courtyard...

Details:

Monday

10:15 AM

Sunny - 75°

Someone in the Warehouse has just committed apparent suicide by leaping from the roof. Some know her as Dorothy Whitfield, an HR representative who, up until now has shown little indication of any unhappiness. Some do not know her at all... But when her body fell to the courtyard, effectively interrupting everyone's work schedule, it became impossible to keep things quiet...

The police arrived... mulling about with very little urgency, and slowly, the crowd began to form.

Whether it was by pure curiosity or you were dragged there by a coworker, and contrary to any thoughts you might otherwise have, you find yourself drawn to the zoo happening down below…

TAGS || @CloudyBlueDay, @Nav, @rissa, @Bears, @Doctor Jax, @Joan, @Kimberlyn, @Jess Incognito,

Nav · Aug 3, 2017

"This is just bad, bad, bad," Chai muttered to himself as he took long strides across the hallway towards the courtyard with a welder's mask hugged to his side. While a bit late to the party, the news that circulated wildly through the staffers since earlier that morning had reached him. He knew bad things were going to happen that day from the moment he had woken up (or from the moment he stopped playing video games, as he told his peers). His horoscope had even told him to counteract potential problems or conflict and to avoid whatever makes you uncomfortable or puts you in a negative state of mind. Well, damn, because suicide was really cramping his style.

There was not a thing he could do to avoid it besides mutter under his breath and try and go with the flow as much as humanly possible. Pulling up the sleeve on his black sweatshirt, Chai glanced down at his wristwatch and took note of the time. He could spare just a few minutes to investigate the happenings, he supposed. He was about due for his mid-shift break, anyways.

While most of his breaks were reserved for sipping tea and fervently checking the web for new horoscope updates (they were updated bi-hourly), he supposed he could make the exception for one day. Impossibly set in his ways, he really hated making such exceptions, but the day's events simply called for his attention.

A part of him wanted to do nothing more than get back into work, as there was quite a 'to-do' list for him to accomplish, but his innate curiosity got the better of him. Before long, Chai had sauntered out in the morning sun and into the throngs of people huddling around the Do Not Cross police tape and the dead body. The site made his nose crinkle and stomach churn a little as he quickly adverted his eyes from the body displayed across the cobblestone courtyard like a piece of avant-garde art.

It was disappointing how slow the police seemed to be moving, but then again, who was Chai to judge their work? With a low hum, the young man shoved his hands deep in his jean pockets and idly stroked the nickels with one hand. They were coins that were long since obsolete in favour of the credit money plan, but they were a gift from his grandfather and Chai never failed to keep them with him. He felt as though they possessed mystical, soothing powers.

They didn't, but whatever.

His eyes began to wander through the crowd, inspecting. The man next to him looked friendly enough with a twist of long, off-blonde hair on his head and tears collecting on the rims of his eyes as he clamped a hand over his own mouth.

"Hey—" Chai murmured to him, a chunk of his thick, dark locks tumbling down his tanned cheek as he moved to lean closer, "What's going on 'ere, aye?" he asked, offering the man a sympathetic, if not shy, smile. Perhaps it was best just not knowing what was going on, but even sweetheart Chai couldn't resist the temptation of some good gossip and of all the faces he could see. He reached up and pushed the welding googles off the bridge of his nose and used them to collect his hair back on top of his head.

The man gave him a scowl, telling him to bugger off (in less kind words that Chai wished not to repeat), causing him to recoil and slink towards the back fringe of the group that was gathered around the poor young woman… whatever her name was. "Bad, bad, bad," he continued to mutter a bit under his breath, folding his arms across his broad, muscular chest. Soot covered his hands from his morning's toil, smudging coal black streaks across his clothes, but he didn't seem to notice. In fact, he had half a mind to just leave the scene altogether and go to the now (very) empty cafeteria and quietly eat his lunch. He bet that the cheesecake dessert, which was always sold out by the time he got there, wouldn't be sold out today with everyone busying themselves here.

Still, he was drawn to the crowd like a bug to a lamp, so he stayed, no matter how much he willed his feet to move.

Doctor Jax · Aug 10, 2017

u m a

She had always said trouble had a tendency to find her.

The medic sat on a bench outside the "crime scene" -- a rather loose definition, seeing as suicide was more personal choice than societal sin -- with her eyes glued to the body that had abruptly attempted to become one with the concrete. Today, she had said she'd drop off some heavy duty aces to keep one of her regular Narcs awake through a tough week, and the Warehouse had always been a convenient unloading point. Lacy was good about being discreet, and they usually had coffee somewhere to allay suspicions. Perhaps it was bad luck -- perhaps it was karma -- perhaps the universe was literally trying to drop something on her. Whatever the case, Uma had had the misfortune of being a mere twenty feet away when this woman smacked directly into the pavement from over five stories.

She'd done what she could, of course, which wasn't exactly much. The woman had suffered the typical sprawl of a body that had taken seven g's and pushed them into unnatural directions. If she was honest, Uma had to say she would have felt worse for the lady had she lived through the onslaught. By some grace, her neck had broken, and so her end had been fairly instant, give or take thirty seconds.

Uma was used to death, but what she hadn't counted on was the police. No, while she was fairly sympathetic to the poor dear, she had to admit she was mildly upset at the idiot for choosing here and now to take her own life. At the moment, Uma was more than a little nervous that the police seemed to be taking their sweet time, while also holding her up. As someone who'd been a witness, as well as a "participant", she was unable to leave the scene -- while carrying, in her pocket, enough aces to get her put away for a good, good long time. This was not exactly a position she wanted to stay in.

Looking around at the crowd rubbernecking the tragedy splayed out on the floor, she caught sight of a young man with a welder's mask and some goggles holding back a whole mane of brown hair, who'd muttered to himself "bad, bad, bad". She huffed a bit in sarcastic mirth before mumbling, "Bad is a bit of an understatement. Seems you're late to the party here."

Uma removed another cigarette from a carton, her fifth. She was almost out, her skin crawling as she thought about the amount of law enforcement encroaching her unholy stomping ground.

Jess Incognito · Aug 11, 2017

vera

Vera's foot slowly relaxed off the pedal of her sewing machine and her fingers stopped pushing fabric under the needle, which pushed through the bunched fabric one last time before stopping midway up. She zoned out, eyes peeled wide open but seeing nothing. It had happened a few times since her patch started malfunctioning, but never at work.

She snapped back to reality with her heart pounding up her throat. Someone will have noticed the lapse, surely. The jig was up.

But...none of the other seamsters and seamstresses were at their work spaces. They crowded the window, heads bowed and nearly touching the glass in order to look down to the pavement far far below. They couldn't possibly have gleaned much information from this floor, save the fact that a large crowd was gathering.

"I'm telling you, it was a body. He...or she....just flew past. I almost missed it," someone said louder than the others who spoke rapidly in hushed tones to one another. Vera still sat at her work space, not even unbunching the fabric stuck in the machine, but even the floor manager was nowhere to be seen.

"Well..." she started slowly and the group turned, surprised to see her unmoved, "Should we go down there?" It would be less suspicious in a group. Just curious onlookers. The others glanced at one another and considered this. Rachel - a woman older than Vera and twice as exhausted in appearance despite a functioning patch - spoke up with her chin wagging, "I'm getting back to work. Surely it's nothing."

Nothing that affects Rachel, anyway, Vera imagined. She rose from her seat and left the room alone, granola bar in tow. She could consider it taking her break early, if anyone asked.

The elevator took forever in its decent to the ground floor, Vera clicking her tongue all the way. She had to know what was going on. It could be something...something important. She had to be vigilant these days. The sun seemed bright when she stepped outside. The gathering crowd drew her eye and she followed the onlookers.

The scene itself was brutal, but she didn't really want to look at that. Vera may have been the only one looking everywhere but the body, eyes flicking to and fro, neck twisting. Surely, there was something go on here - her paranoia told her so.

Rae · Aug 16, 2017

21 hours, 15 minutes, 34 seconds.

Delilah Chance took a deep, shuddering breath as she stared herself through the cracked glass mirror of the women's restroom. It has been cracked by a rather angry fist months ago, and no one had bothered to fix it. Not that she really minded. Now, she could use this restroom in relative peace, as any woman who wanted to fix her makeup would almost always go somewhere else. Perhaps she should follow their lead, though.

After all, she looked like absolute shit.

It has been over 21 hours since she last slept, and she could feel the fatigue setting in. Anxiety crawled along her every nerve, trembling her fingers and making her blood rush. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and her stomach had knotted itself three times over. Or at least, that's what it felt like. Every bone in her body was telling her to lie down and close here eyes, but she couldn't. Not if she wanted to keep her job, her life, her fucking sanity.

Throwing cold water on her face, Lia checked her watch. She had ten minutes left of her break. Just enough time for her third cup of coffee.

Until she heard the screams.

Cold, relentless fear raked down her spine as her breath caught. And then she was running, throwing open the door and nearly crashing into another frazzled employee. He paid her no mind whatsoever, moving with the same sense of urgency and curiosity that Lia saw on everyone's faces. She checked her watch again. Maybe she had time. Biting her lip, she moved with more confidence than she felt in the direction of the crowd. She had been on the first floor by chance that day.

Now, she wished she'd never come downstairs. The growing chaos of the onlookers was only heightened by the presence of the police. When Lia saw them, every muscle in her body coiled, as if she expected them to spot her and call for her arrest. The anxiety she'd been feeling turned to full-blown panic, and it took everything she had not to run from the scene. She knew that would only draw attention, and attention was the last thing she needed.

Being small in stature certainly had advantages, as Lia easily slipped through the mass of people to see what the commotion was all about. When she first saw the blood, she nearly let out a scream of her own. Her hand went over her mouth, tears of revulsion pricking her eyes. What the fuck happened? The police moseyed about their business, questioning witnesses and bystanders without a single shred of urgency. Violent thoughts crept into her mind, anger burning in her abdomen.

Someone had died. And they could hardly give a shit.

Despite herself, Lia looked back at the body, her eyes roving over every detail. The girl was nearly unidentifiable, the fall having mangled her features. She looked young--too young. Of course, was anyone ever truly old enough to die? Her pants...they were pressed. Why would she do that if she planned to die? Lia's eyes flitted to a bit of metal encased around her shattered arm. It was a watch, the face broken and the hands stopped. Forever stopped on the exact moment its owner died.

So much was wrong here.

Why...why do people die?

Bears · Aug 18, 2017

j a v i

Javi's eyes stared back at him--his reflection only somewhat altered by the dirtied mirror. The man stood alone in one of the factory's many bathrooms, his hands straight up death gripping the edges of the sink while his worker boots tapped erratically against the tiled floor.

The laborer splashed his face with a growl. He did it a second time but the urge did not leave him. A girl had died--gone and thrown herself off the top of the damn building. He knew everyone would be trying to catch a glimpse of the body... and he knew that plenty of the security personnel would be there to make sure things didn't go to shit because of it.

He could take one of the delivery vans, maybe. Take it for a quick joy ride right and hit up the casinos since it was too early to get his rush at the Colosseum. In all the chaos nobody would notice he was gone, he could come right back afterwards and...and...what the hell was he thinking?

Glass shattered and dug deeply into his knuckle. For a moment he could almost laugh at himself, punching a mirror was as stereotypical as it gets after all. But he knew without a doubt that Ollie would know something was up and that Jolene would skin him alive if she figured out what he was thinking. Now he probably deserved a skinning considering all the shit he'd put her through to this point... but admitting that to himself didn't make the idea any more appealing.

He stepped back while specs of his blood found the floor. His reflection, broken almost beyond recognition, remained staring at him... a peculiar mixture of self hate and amusement in his shattered blue gaze.

Javi needed some air and a smoke ASAP. He wiped his hand on the inside of his shirt and grimaced as he inspected the damage. He'd have to think of some excuse to tell the girls later but for now his main concern was a distraction. Stepping out in the hallway he made for the courtyard, the look of his face undoubtedly handsome... if not a little unhinged.

He stepped out to the sight of a crowd but the man paid them all very little mind. He trailed towards the outer edges of the group while his hands dug into the pockets of his weighty jacket. Javi pulled out a pack and a lighter.

But of course the latter would prove to be difficult--his luck was ironically shitty for a man with a serious gambling addiction--and he ended up standing there, desperately attempting to light his cigarette while virtually ignoring the dead woman lying just a couple feet away.

"C'mon you little shit. Work damnit..." Javi cursed to himself, his attractive features contorted by disdain.

Elle Joyner · Aug 18, 2017

[bg=#2EE1E5]

Elisage Castleton
Location: Warehouse Courtyard

[/bg]

The needle went in smooth as a spoon through broth, the light prick barely a sensation anymore. Smooth, warm adrenaline coursed through the syringe, into her blood stream and with a long, slow sigh, Sage retracted the needle and pressed a cool fingertip to quell the tiny droplet of blood which came in it's wake. It wasn't her drug of choice, Epinephrine, but she'd fallen asleep again the night before and drastic times called for drastic measures.

"Hey! Davis!" A voice called out, and Sage jumped, the needle and small glass bottle falling from her lap, clattering to the bathroom floor. Swearing under her breath, she scooped them up and jammed them into the muff of her sweatshirt, rising to her feet, "It's been ten minutes, Sage! Floor Manager's askin' where the hell you went."

Pushing open the stall door, Sage frowned at the figure of the red headed woman, glowering from the threshold of the restroom. Cynthea Shanders - the woman could manage to stick her nose in anyone's business, even if it were lopped off from her face.

"I told you I wasn't feeling good. You wanna smell my breath? Test the toilet for biologicals? God, Cynth... Take a pill." Rolling her eyes, Sage shuffled past the woman, who backed away, apparently repelled by the suggestion. A smirk of satisfaction touched the blonde's lips and she turned, heading in the direction of the 8B Assembly Line. Halfway down the hallway, she was halted by the site of a small group, huddled together in front of the window overlooking the courtyard, their mumbled voices carrying through the narrow passage.

"Did you know her?"

"No... But I heard she was pretty high up... Had dinner with the President and his family, even."

"Maybe it was an affair, that made her do it...?"

Brow quirked, Sage approached the gaggle. Three of the four were strangers, but she recognized Dan Phelps. He'd worked on her line a few times. He was a nice enough guy, when he wasn't staring at your boobs.

"What's going on?" She asked, and Dan glanced up. She considered it a testament to what had happened that he looked her in the eye first.

"HR Rep jumped... Pancaked in the courtyard. It's some pretty grisly stuff, down there."

"Gross. Suicide?"

"Looks like it, yeah. Cops are here, though. Wonder if they're gonna start askin' questions..."

Her hands twitched inside the sweatshirt pocket and Sage shrugged, "I don't see why they'd need to..."

"Yeah, probably not. Still... how cool would that be."

"You forget somebody died, Phelps?"

"Oh. Right! Yeah. Sorry... Say, Sage... You never call--"

Before he could finish, Sage was gone, but not in the direction of the assembly lines. Curiosity... however morbid... was often times a Siren's call. She hadn't known anyone in HR personally, but it was the first real news the Warehouse had since that chick chopped off her toe... or finger... or some body part. It was fascinating stuff, and it was a hell of an excuse not to return to the line until the Adrenaline really kicked in. Taking the elevator down to the lowest level, Sage stepped out in the lobby, hit hard by the heat coming off the floor to ceiling glass windows. She followed the line of gawkers out into the sticky heat and was immediately met by the impression that any kind of news like this wasn't beneficial to the Warehouse's business. It was a mad house - hundreds of workers, bundled together, stretching on tiptoes, peering round one another, hoping to get a glimpse of what was happening. It all seemed a little sick, but then... wasn't she there for the same reason? Grateful for once that she was so small, she found a hole in the crowd and pushed her way through.

[bg=#2EE1E5]

Finnegan Carver
Location: Warehouse Courtyard

[/bg]

Dolly was dead. He'd gotten the news through the gossip pipeline - not the way he would've liked to hear it, certainly, but it was better than being the last to know. Half the Warehouse was down there, now, driven by twisted curiosity and a weird psychological need to be a part of the freak show, but not Finn. He couldn't bring himself to do it... to go down there and try to sneak a peek at the body. Thinking about it made him feel sick...

They'd only dated briefly - a few weeks, really, but their break up had been amiable and he had always considered Dolly a good friend. They both had their secrets, which was why they never worked as a couple, but ultimately, she was a good person, full of life and ways to live it to the fullest. Knowing what had happened, knowing what she'd done... It wasn't just upsetting, it was mind numbing. It made no sense.

He'd made it outside, but only to the front portico and no further. He refused to join the voyeuristic rabble... even if it might mean getting information.

His eyes hurt from tears, held at bay, and Finn blinked uncomfortably, digging into his pocket for a cell. Pressing in a few digits, he waited until the voice on the other end answered, "Dixon. Make it quick."

"Hey, Dix. It's Finn. I need a favor..."

"Yeah, kid? What's up?"

"...I want in on tonight's fight... Can you make it happen?"

"You aren't on the roster, kid. Not sure if the Boss'll like it."

"...Don't worry. I don't mean to win or anything... Just... got some bad news today, and I need a distraction."

"Yeah, sure, kid. I'll make it happen. See you tonight."

"Thanks, Dixon. See ya."

Pressing the button to end the call, he moved to slide his phone into his pocket, but noticed a message, blinking in the corner. Frowning, he tapped on the screen.

SENT 10:46 || UNKNOWN NUMBER

1913 Hamish Ave. @8:30 on Tuesday.
All that is Gone is not Lost. -- D

As cold terror slid along his spine the phone dropped from Finn's quivering hands, splattering Dorothy Whitfield on the pavement all over again...

Scene Objective: A Mysterious Summons

This mysterious text message goes out among the crowd... reaching those to whom a similarly ominous letter was delivered. An address, a time... a summons...

And with it... perhaps, the promise of answers.

TAGS || @CloudyBlueDay, @Nav, @rissa, @Bears, @Doctor Jax, @Joan, @Kimberlyn, @Jess Incognito,

rissa · Aug 19, 2017

jolene roswell

Where the fuck are you? Jo thought to herself darkly while a mixture of anger and fear collided in her stomach. She never found herself nervous before a fight, or when Javi found himself in a rough patch, or even during those brief moments in time… Where she wasn't quite sure what was happening. But right now, in this moment, hands curled into fists as she fought the welling terror in her gut.

Where the fuck are you Javi?

She needed to see him, make sure everything was alright on his part. Outwardly, Jolene looked relatively calm as she made a wide track around the growing crowd. Her welding helmet was tucked under her right arm and her left swayed with her stride, though still balled in a fist. So yeah, she was as calm as could be expected for one who had witnessed the descent of a human being. She even recognized her, moments before her body made impact with the cement.

It was Dolly. The HR Rep who finalized her promotion to become a welder. That was almost two years prior and outside of a few random happenstances, they had never sat face-to-face again. It was a face she remembered vividly however, and with a pang of sadness, realized she'd never see it again. Jolene was spared the aftermath of her descent, though, as she had closed her eyes just before impact. She would only remember the beautiful face and unbroken body of the woman who helped Jolene transition into a new chapter of her life.

Shoving the thoughts away, Jolene kept up with her stalking of the perimeter, eyeing those gathered in search of her brother. She caught sight of him just as she bumped into someone. Apologizing, thinking that she was the cause of him dropping his phone, Jo bent to retrieve it, accidentally glancing at the message contents as she did. Glancing up she recognized Finn, a fellow Colosseum fighter and for a moment, saw her own terror mirrored back at her.

"Finn? Are you…?" Jolene began, handing back his phone. "You okay? Hold on-- JAVI!" Jo shouted out to her brother, waving her arm to garner his attention. She motioned for him to come over and then glanced back at Finn worriedly. "You're not okay are you?"

And just as she finished, her phone beeped to alert her to new messages. Jolene fished her phone from her back pocket, unlocked it with her thumb print and tapped on the message icon. What it revealed ignited the terror that was just starting to ease off. Jo looked back at Finn, confusion and fear evident in her face.

"What the f--"

Tags: @Elle Joyner @Bears

CloudyBlueDay · Aug 20, 2017

olive johnson.

[bg=light gray]She watched the woman fall.

Bile rose in Olive's throat. She took an unsteady step back, fists clenched within the pockets of her jacket. Not hers. Her brother's. Gone. Lost. As dead as Dolly on the pavement, perhaps.

I gotta get outta here.

She struggled past the crowd and searched for someplace to hide. Olive felt.. Guilty. Guilty? Why the fuck was she guilty? She wasn't the one egging the woman off the roof. What the hell had made her do that anyway? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She was tired. Tired of it all, tired of this pointless existence. But she was actually tired, too. Sleep-worthy. A foreign word, sleep. A forbidden word. She longed for the blackness of it, the emptiness. But wanting it would get her taken. Away, far away, never to be seen, or heard from again.

Olive didn't want to go without a fight.

"JAVI!"

Her head snapped at the name. Javi? It must have been his sister shouting to him. A familiar face would do her well. Javi was a good cuddler.

Before the burly man was able to reach his sister, Olive had made his way to his side, and gently touched his shoulder. Gentle touches were quite unlike her, but this was an eventful day. Her teeth were gritted but her gaze was soft.

"Uh," She started, voice gritty until she cleared her throat. "You.. okay?"

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and a grimace came upon her face. Olive pointedly waited out the buzzing, and frankly ignored the text, at least for now, her main focus on Javi. Her eyes narrowed as she heard the buzzing of his own phone.

@Bears @Elle Joyner (@rissa)[/bg]

Joan · Aug 20, 2017

Sandra Anderson

Sandra shivered and rubbed her arms, hugging herself tightly. She stood at the edge of the crowd surrounding the dead girl, and she didn't really want to get any closer. She had heard plenty of different people talking about it already—she didn't need to see the dead girl for herself.

Then again, why had she come out here in the first place? She honestly wasn't sure, thinking about it now. Sure, most of her coworkers had stopped working to come out here, but that didn't necessarily mean she had to follow them. She could have kept working, or taken the time to eat something and get yet another cup of coffee. That's actually what she had set out to do. And yet...here she was, out in the courtyard with the rest of the workers. Why?

She shivered again and rubbed her hands up and down over her arms, glancing back toward the nearby building. I shouldn't be here...but...why? Why did she throw herself off?

As she thought that, she realized that that was why she was out here. She wanted to know what had driven the young woman to kill herself, especially in such a dramatic way. Why? What was the point? If I remember correctly, she was an upper class girl, so she was better off than the rest of us, at least. With a faint sigh, she rearranged her arms so that they were crossed over her chest and rubbed her neck with one hand. It doesn't make any sense... Then again, it was pretty hard to think in this crowd of peering eyes from workers and police alike.

The police were the concerning part, really. She didn't want to have to deal with police, not after her Patch had stopped working, but as far as she could tell, there was no reason they should suspect anything...after all, she hadn't fallen asleep in public or anything like that. Yet.

Lost in her thoughts as she was, she didn't notice the faint vibration of her phone at first. It had to vibrate a second time before she noticed, and she pulled it out of her jacket pocket with a frown. Who would be texting her in the middle of the day, especially now…? As she read the message, her frown deepened.

All that is gone is not lost...What the hell is that supposed to mean? She glanced back at the crowd surrounding the dead girl before looking back at her phone, reading the message again. Is this talking about her…? For some reason, that thought caused a chill to run down her spine, and her grip on her phone tightened. She read the message once again, this time making careful note of the date, time, and place listed. Tomorrow...so I have a full day to figure out what the hell is happening before making any commitments. Better make the most of it.

The phone went back in her pocket, and she began to head inside. She needed a place to sort out her thoughts, and she wasn't going to find that with a large group of morbidly curious co-workers.

Nav · Aug 21, 2017

"Oh, aye," he replied when a voice of an unfamiliar shot across the muffled noises of the crowd. He looked over the woman who had stationed herself next to him from the corner of his eye. She was a skeletal being with a bit of skin and flesh stretched over her long, narrow body. It wasn't her appearance so much as the sound of her voice that had caught his attention. It was coarse and raw, like sliding stones together.

He huffed a little himself, inhaling sharply the sweet smell of her cigarette smoke and giving a lame shrug. Cigarettes never appealed to him, but they started smelling sweeter and sweeter the longer he worked at welding. The smell of the smoke coming off his metal work often so bad, it felt like someone put a piece of coal in his lungs each time he started up the torch. After a while, everything started smelling sweet and his tongue stopped tasting salt.

"I had work to do, n' such," he said, explaining why he was late though he knew it didn't matter. The woman's aura was a hazelnut brown swirled with orange; he doubted she cared about very much. "And I never really like to rush much of anything. I'm Chai, you are…?"

The saltiness in the air around them was palpable, even to Chai. The overarching sentiment of the group was primarily shock, followed by sadness. He felt neither. Sympathy reflect in his eyes, which were a shade of brown as warm as hot coffee on a winter night. "Poor lass, eh?"

The buzzer of his mobile phone went off like an annoyed rattlesnake. Chai gave the woman a small smile and scooped it up out of his pocket. The message came from an unidentified number, but he opened it without hesitation. Super heroes were, after all, supposed to be fearless. Inside the message, he found an address and a time.

"Just… gotta… ah-hah," he mumbled to himself as he stored the event in his mobile's calendar, under an event title he believed to be a brilliant ruse against the police in case they decided to search him: 'don't take a nap.' He thought he was super clever.

@Doctor Jax

Jess Incognito · Aug 27, 2017

vera

Vera scanned the mass of people as if looking on from above. Her mind raced along in a flurry, stopping at each thought only a moment before moving on. The crowd stood relatively quiet, hushed concerns and gossip passing from lip to ear, but Vera, in her own world, perceived a roar.

She noticed some people gathering as they found familiar faces. She didn't like that one bit.

Snap - she jolted from her own little world, slipping a small hand into the pocket of her jacket and clutching her phone tightly as it continued twice more to buzz. It vibrated aggressively - Read me! Read me! She pulled it out and glanced at the message, but quickly slid it back and zipped the pocket shut - as if that would prevent any more mysterious messages from reaching her. Hiding the crumpled letter at the bottom of the trash can certainly hadn't.

Vera took steps backward, trying to escape the mass slowly. Their eyes stretched forward from their heads, still hoping to catch a glimpse. No one else looked at their phones - for once completely enthralled by that which lay before them. No one else - except, Vera's eyes snapped like a lego fitting into place on a dark haired woman clutching her phone and staring fixedly at a man who also seemed held by his device. They looked…well they looked like they didn't like what they saw. From this distance and through meandering bodies, Vera saw the woman's lips move, saying the same words she herself wanted to - given anyone trustworthy to which to say them.

Vera stared too long and tore away her gaze. Certain as she was about all her paranoid thoughts that she was not alone in this, she wasn't ready to pick up this thread. She headed quickly for the doors with the intent of going back to the relative safety of her work space. She passed within twenty feet of the pair with one more quick look, still trying to decide if texts received at the same time and prompting the same response could be coincidental or not. Many things in her life could be written off as coincidence - but she rather hated that explanation.

Doctor Jax · Sep 8, 2017

u m a

Uma inspected with gratuitous care the man she had struck up conversation with. He could hardly be called a "man" -- his air was boyish, almost the effervescent sparkle of youth radiating off him -- with unruly hair kept at bay by welders goggles and a lithe frame that still spoke to hours poring over hot metal. Had she been a younger woman with a bigger appetite, she wouldn't have minded circling the chum like a shark off the bow of a fishing boat, but alas she was too learned by this point. He offered a reason for his latecomer status -- work,
a usual suspect -- giving a fitting name, Chai, before asking her own.

She gave a slow smile, rapid as an oil slick, and she stated, "You can call me Uma."

At the mention of the "poor lass", Uma let her eyes roll over to the body hidden behind a curtain of living counterparts, the crowd undulating as forensic techs and police did their work -- slowly, might she add. For a moment, she'd heard in his voice real sympathy, the kind of thing that came a silver dollar a gram. Perhaps now that she had the benefit of temporal, as well as physical, distance, she could consider the facts splattered on the pavement. A young woman, for reasons unknown, decided taking a long walk off a short roof was the best solution to her problems. "Poor lass" described the situation as much as "wet" did the ocean.

She wondered how many of her Narcs were like that, hallucinating after seven days' worth of sleeplessness, wishing they could nod off. There were times they seemed ready rig a C4 package to their front door alarm, if just to get a few Z's and buy them minutes when the Dream Team finally put a boot through the door.

This right here was the Big Sleep, and boy could it sometimes look mighty tempting.

Then, as she was about to answer, she heard her phone buzz in concert with Chai's. This fact did not escape her notice as she kept an eye on his face while digging about in her scrubs for her own. He seemed momentarily perturbed, but then again, everything here was perturbing. Nevermind the fact Chai seemed a person not used to perturbation, but that was not her business. She removed her own phone to glance at the screen--

--and immediately put it back into her pocket, not bothering to read the whole thing.

Date, time, location. A grand reveal? I know the drill. I've set the drill, time or two.

"Looks like someone's out there looking for me. It was nice chatting with you, Chai," Uma said in a low drawl, real amusement in her eyes as she glanced up at the young man. [/hr]

Elle Joyner · Sep 9, 2017

"Ladies and gentleman, if I might have your attention!"

The booming voice filled the courtyard with the resonance of a schooled theater Prima Oumo, a strong, sturdy sounds, without tremor or wave. It belonged to a man both tall and thin, a wiry sort, with fine white hair and a subtly handsome face. He wore a suit in charcoal grey and a bright blue tie with very little character. Classically, he might be called striking, except for the cold, steel eyes, fixed then, on the large crowd surrounding the unfortunate display.

"My name, as most of you know, is Silas Reid...Vice President here at the Warehouse. This horrendous episode is most regrettable, but I would like to assure you we are doing everything in our power to get to the bottom of what's happened, here. In the meantime, to ensure that no one is left without the proper emotional support, we will be providing half an hour of mandatory grief counseling, between the hours of 9 and 11, for each Warehouse unit. In the meantime, I would ask that we pull ourselves together, so that we might continue the work day. If you would all kindly return to your positions, it would be greatly appreciated. Remember - The Warehouse can't run without you... and if the Warehouse doesn't run, New Miami doesn't run. Thank you."

[bg=#2EE1E5]

Elisage Castleton
Location: Warehouse Courtyard

[/bg]

...Of all the pompous, self absorbed, superficial suits that made up The Warehouse hierarchy, Silas Reid had to be one of the foremost. The idea that a suicide victim laying in their courtyard was nothing for than an episode... it was disgusting. But it also wasn't remotely surprising. That was the way things worked, wasn't it? Death was brushed aside, because work was more important.

Rolling her eyes, Sage pulled her phone from her pocket, eyeing the text message she'd received a moment before. A frown crossed her lips as she read over the words before tucking the device away again. She'd talked to her dealer in the past about getting cute with his texts... Incidentally, not an effective conversation.

"Idiot..." She mumbled, before turning round to make for the entrance again. The elevators would be a nightmare, so she bypassed the lifts and headed instead, for the stairs. Ultimately, whatever had happened, she didn't doubt for a moment there would be no real investigation into it. A low level HR chick swan diving into the courtyard was hardly worthy of the cops attention, and it certainly wasn't going to draw out a figure like the infamous President, whoever the hell he was...

All Sage wanted was to get through the rest of her shift, get through the idiot gab fest of 'grief counseling' get downtown and find as many ways as possible to keep her eyelids open...

Easier said than done when time seemed to be running backwards...

In reality, the counseling sounded like a brilliant waste of time. Judging from the way folks were chattering about what happened with moronic smiles on their faces, the gossip mill running wild about why she'd jumped in the first place. The popular theory, of course, was that she was having an affair that had ended less than civilly. Of course, there was also talk that she was on drugs that had her so addled she'd walked right off the roof... And some suggestions that she was a Narc, and was so depressed about it that she'd chosen to end her life, rather than getting caught and sent to ISO.

By the time the bell rang, signalling the end of her shift, the voice calling over the loudspeaker for their unit to head to the lounge for their session, Sage was ready to violently strangle someone...

But mandatory was mandatory, and so, fighting a yawn, she made her way down to the lounge, where she found herself pleasantly alone for a moment, sinking down on the couch with a sigh of resignation.

[bg=#2EE1E5]

Finnegan Carver
Location: Warehouse Courtyard

[/bg]

The voice was enough to draw Finn from his thoughts, but only just and as he glanced up, he blinked for a moment, before registering the woman standing before him.

"Jo?" He asked, a brow lifting before a small frown formed, "I'm fine. It's just... this circus. It's sick, you know? Someone died. Who he hell wants to gawk at that??" Before Jolene could answer, there was another voice - one that filled the courtyard and glancing over to the VP of the Warehouse, Finn rolled his eyes. Mandatory counseling? Probably just precaution to make sure no one was asking too many questions...

Still... at least it would clear out the crowd.

"I should get back to work." He muttered, when Silas had concluded his speech, "I'll see you at the Colosseum tonight." And turned, he slipped back into the Warehouse.

He couldn't concentrate. No matter how hard he tried, how desperately he keyed his focus to the task at hand, Finn was absolutely wrapped up. Dolly was gone, yet no sooner had she jumped than he'd received a text message from her. There was no question, of course. D... It had been her call-sign as long as he'd known her.

But it was also impossible, which inevitably meant someone was playing games... How and why, he didn't know, and it ate at him, throughout the remainder of his shift.

At long last, the bell rang, indicating the Warehouse shut down and before the chime ended, Finn had grabbed his things and was out the door.

Grief Counseling. How anyone could think it would help was a mystery. What he needed was a fight - but he'd get one, soon enough. After he'd managed to reassemble the splintered pieces of his phone to a degree that they actually functioned, he'd read a message from Dixon, letting him know they'd found a slot in the Colosseum for him that night. He only needed to get through the next half hour or so, and he could put the whole mess behind him.

Making his way downstairs he found himself in the lounge, occupied by a young brunette, El Something or Other. He gave her a nod, then found a spot as far from the windows as he could manage. He knew it was out there, the Courtyard... Night had fallen and they'd cleaned up any traces of what had happened, but the memory was burned in his mind of Dolly, lying there... like a beautiful broken doll.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. The meeting couldn't end fast enough...

Scene Objective: A Not So Mysterious Summons

You've been called to the mandatory grief counseling meeting. Feelings. Enjoy.

TAGS || @CloudyBlueDay, @Nav, @rissa, @Bears, @Doctor Jax, @Joan, @Kimberlyn, @Jess Incognito,

Doctor Jax · Sep 13, 2017

u m a

The statuesque blonde woman had finished sewing up a seamstress' finger just as the shift bell rang. Nevertheless, she lingered to make sure the girl -- Melanie Dominguez, she told her her name was -- had been handed over correctly to the next medic on shift at the Medical Ward. She hated it when she was working on someone in the middle of a shift change, especially if someone needed some serious work done on them, like a broken finger or a torn ligament. She'd watched with disgust a few times when one or two medics with more greed than cardiac tissue left as soon as the bell went off, sometimes even five minutes before, letting a poor dear hold their own arm together.

Something about this place could do it to a person, though.

"You need anything, hon, you call, okay?" Uma assured, dropping a business card on the table next to Melanie as Dolores, her replacement, looked at the stitches Uma had put down.

"Oh... um, thanks," the girl said, though Uma was already halfway down the hall.

As she walked towards the lounge, a seething, bubbling sort of rage began to fill her belly as she thought of the reason why she was headed towards "grief counseling." There was an odd kind of mockery there, a sort of pinch that lay directly under her skin. Yes, give everyone who saw the woman flatten herself from four stories grief counseling. Give them all a chance to air out their feelings.

But screw the medics who had to deal with screaming, pain, and agony in the Ward. Never mind the poor girl who'd been degloved because she didn't take off her wedding ring and it got stuck in the mechanism. It's alright, no one needed to talk out the fact some kid on the welding floor lost three toes and cried for his mother into Uma's shirt. No, there was no problem with her handling a lady miscarrying in the woman's restroom all on her own and having to explain to her what had happened. Sure, Manny Dayton ate a bullet for breakfast about a year ago, and Eddy Montana looks like he's trying not to shove that scalpel on the table into his jugular, but it was okay, she was getting grief counseling, because some dyke threw herself off the building in front of everyone and that's enough to get some therapy.

Before she made it to the lounge, she stopped herself and smacked her head into the wall, balling up a fist. She hadn't even felt anything when the woman hit the pavement. There'd just been dull surprise, and her medic training kicked in, just like that. If anything, she'd been annoyed, because she'd been waylaid by police and her Narc buddy had to wait to get her fix so she could stay awake just a few more hours. Even as she tried to summon sympathy, she could only summon the feeling this was all a real nuisance.

She needed a cigarette, and bad.

Uma peeled her forehead off the wall and opened the door to the lounge, sticking her hands in her pockets. The lounge was mostly empty, besides a blond girl she didn't recognize and Finnegan. Momentarily, Uma felt her heart lighten, though the sensation was dampened by the look on Finn's typically cheerful face. She walked over and plopped herself down in a chair next to him.

"Fancy finding you here. And I thought you were a delinquent who couldn't hold a job that didn't involve knocking out teeth," she muttered to him with a sly smile, leaning back in the chair.

[/hr]

@Elle Joyner

Nav · Sep 18, 2017

The loud voice booming in his ears tasted like orange.

Subconsciously, Chai lifted a hand to rub at the lobe of his ear as he listened. Counseling. Grief. Work. The hair along the back of his neck bristled and a jostle ran through the crowd. There was an magical easiness about being one of a crowd, he found. Emotions were felt together, the bunch moving like a multi-headed beast sharing only one brain. The overarching sentiment towards counseling was negative. Chai felt neutral towards it, but seeing the look of disdain on the others' faces caused the own negativity to reflect inward on him.

The crowd dispersed. Work resumed. Nothing changed.

At his time, Chai peeled the welders' goggled from his forehead and dropped them on his bench. He picked the thick gloves from his hands and laid them properly out where they belonged, then combed back his hair, and swiped a hand across his sooty face. En route to the lounge, he paused at the loo to wash his face clean. Drying his face with paper towel, he looked at himself in the mirror. Same purple aura, just like always. It was a nice colour on him, with his burnt Sienna skintone, and he wondered why his wardrobe always consisted of black and greys.

"I should buy more purple," he told his reflection. He knew there wasn't money to be spared for vanities, but he liked hearing himself say it, anyways.

Out of the bathroom, down the hall, two lefts and a right, Chai nudged open the lounge door. It was quiet inside with only a handful of people taking up chairs. He, too, stole a seat a little closer to the windows and gave a quick survey of the room. Uma, he knew, from earlier that day. To her, he gave a small hint of smile. None of them looked particularly grievous and, truthfully, Chai didn't either.

Jess Incognito · Sep 28, 2017

vera

"Ugh, what a mess!" exclaimed Eleanor as she passed the work station behind Vera's own. Another girl, Diana - who didn't much look like a Diana with her tousled dark hair and lusty lips, rolled her hazel eyes, "Give her a break, it's happened to all of us."
Eleanor stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn around, the hmph almost audible, "Speak for yourself." The seamstresses were competitive by nature and gossip seemed to go hand in hand.

Vera could see the blood at the work station as she approached her own chair. Diana shrugged, "Medics're fixing her up now." She glanced at the machine, blood clinging to the needle. Specks dotted the work table and the cloth, just a few spatters, really. Eleanor's outrage clashed comically with the sidewalk some stories below.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vera entered the lounge to find that less than half the seats were yet taken. Four or five of the seamstresses went together and chose seats together. As she followed, her eyes fixed - as eyes are want to do once you've noticed something you hadn't before - on the man she had seen in the crowd. His long curls and dark skin couldn't be mistaken.

Diana patted a seat next to her, beckoning Vera to take it, and that's how she found herself sitting next to her most nagging paranoia of the day.

Perhaps he would open his phone again and she would see if the number had been the same or that there had been no text at all! Both would be acceptable, albeit the former sat significantly worse with her. She tried to listen to her friends' conversation to the left, but Diana already leaned over nearly sideways to listen two seats away, so there wasn't much use. Vera raked in the corner of her bottom lip and kept her eyes forward, mind buzzing about the soon starting meeting.

She fought a yawn in the back of her throat and, in an act of suppression, turned just slightly to the man on her right and said, "The Warehouse is always looking out for us, isn't it?" It was, of course, not a thing she believed considering the horror in the courtyard. The cheery optimism of her voice did not match her deadpan, pursed lips.

CloudyBlueDay · Oct 5, 2017

olive johnson.

[bg=light gray]Things happened so fast there was hardly any time for Javi to respond. She desperately craved his warmth, hell, just a goddamn hug, but Olive would never ask. That booming voice came on and any worry in her eyes dissipated. Suddenly this suicide was another blip in the business day. Best make sure there were no liabilities, as in, check if any other of the workers are going to jump off any more of our property? Those bright blue eyes bore into the crowd, and Olive felt redness come to her cheeks in anger.

She needed to punch something.

Without a word Olive disappeared from Javier's side and lost in the crowd. She finished her shift mindlessly, in a daze, another land. Sometimes drowsiness would climb into her consciousness, digging it's claws deep, pulling itself up. Sleep. What's the harm? What'd it do? Olive had never really learned why sleep was so bad. Why it had to take her brother. Why they had to take him. She might close her eyes a moment, steal a second of darkness in between the packaging and the organizing and whatever bullshit. Just a second.

The bell rang, and her eyes opened. Olive left her post and headed for the lounge. Her stride was slow and deliberate, making each step painfully slower than it needed to be. She liked to hear the sounds of the heels of her boots clicking against the linoleum.

She pushed open the door with her foot and surveyed the room, coming in just in time to hear a sentence that brought a bubbling laughter to her lips. She flopped in an empty chair, crossing her arms and throwing one leg over the other. "Maybe if they cared just a little bit more," Olive announced, brushing hair out of her eyes. "She'd still be alive."

@all in louuuunge[/bg]

Elle Joyner · Oct 10, 2017

[bg=#2EE1E5]

Finnegan Carver
Location: Warehouse

[/bg]

"Oi..." Finn started with a disarming smirk, as his eyes turned to Uma, "I've still got all my teeth. What kind of doctor are you, you don't know this?" But there was a lilt in his voice that, despite the expression he flashed and genuinely playful air he held, carried a burdened weight to it. A tone that even a grifter of his talents wasn't entirely capable of masking.

It wasn't all that big a deal. These things happened. People dealt with pain in different ways... and sometimes, people just couldn't deal at all. So Dolly had never given any indication that she was suicidal... so she hadn't even ever seemed that unhappy. Who was he to make those judgments? He'd just dated her... it wasn't like he really knew her.

Or at least those were the thoughts he tried his hardest to dwell on, as he attempted to justify what exactly had happened. He didn't want to think about it, and he certainly didn't want to talk about it to a bunch of strangers. It wasn't going to help him, or clear up any emotional confusion. But in the end mandatory in New Miami wasn't some sort of code word for 'if you want'... It meant exactly that, and not showing up... trying to sneak out, well, that wouldn't be so beneficial, either.

The room steadily began to fill, but Finn paid little mind to those around him, beyond his quip to Uma. The door opened one more time and a narrow, severe looking woman stepped through. She had dark hair, pulled back too tightly, tiny bead like eyes and a stripe of a mouth, painting a dull beige color. Crossing the floor, her heels click-clacking on the tile, she sank into a seat, smoothed out her skirts and smiled in a way Finn imagined was meant to be warm, but instead made it appear as if her face had cracked.

"Welcome... thank you for coming." She started, as if they'd had a choice, "I'd like to begin by having everyone introduce themselves... and then sharing a little about how you're feeling right now. We'll start with you... young man?" A finger, like a blade sliced through the air, pointed in Finn's direction, and for a moment he felt sure she had read his mind. Sighing, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"Finn Caver... and I feel..." Horrible? Devastated? Tired...? "Fine. It's sad and all, but crap like this happens, right?"

"Hmm. Yes. Well then... Who's next?"

Scene Objective: And How Does That Make You Feel?

Introduce yourself... and say how you feel. Simple, right?

TAGS || @CloudyBlueDay, @Nav, @rissa, @Bears, @Doctor Jax, @Jess Incognito,

Doctor Jax · Oct 11, 2017

u m a

Uma could sense that Finn was not his normal, chatty self. The kid was sweet, if somewhat guarded, and she usually saw him after he'd had a bout that ended bloody. She knew when he was at his emotional lowpoint, and right now he'd just plummeted right through the floor. His body language, the way he offered a shot right back at her with a soft jab -- no, no, he was upset about all this, but this wasn't the place to talk about it, however ironic that was.

Uma let her eyes drift about the room. Most of these people, she didn't know particularly well. She recognized one or two by face, if not by name, seeing as almost everybody at one point or another ends up in the infirmary for something. Chai in particular she waved at out of recognition, as he took his seat. The itching bite of nicotine-cravings gnawed at her attention, as her anxiety riled up once the "counselor" came into the room. Something about the lady rubbed her exactly the wrong way. Perhaps it was the eyes that seemed like glass. Maybe it was how her hair seemed to contort her face into that sourpuss moue of disapproval. Whatever the case, the talk of "feelings" drew a scoff as Uma leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest.

"Feelin' a little miffed. Police seemed to take their sweet time about things," Uma stated somewhat callously, a stark departure from her unspoken feelings right before entering the lounge. "Awfully inconvenient, you know. She landed twenty feet from me. Thud."

She gestured with her hand.

"Just makes me wonder what drives a kid to do that around here, you know? Work-life balance probably stunk," Uma said somewhat sarcastically, raising her eyebrows as her gaze telegraphed the message 'screw yourself with a spiked broom handle.'

[/hr]

@Elle Joyner

Perchance to Dream

Moop.

most ardently

Disease Empress

Edgepeasant

Queer as Fuck

Bears

Guest

Moop.

the clairvoyant pterodactyl

consistently inconsistent

"You'll never be alone."

most ardently

Edgepeasant

Disease Empress

Moop.

Disease Empress

most ardently

Edgepeasant

consistently inconsistent

Moop.

Disease Empress