Aha, no. No, nope, absolutely not. Alina was not going for terrorism. She had been killed once already. Risks of that calibre were not worth taking, especially right now. She had to start small.

Though that did give her an idea.
She needed a voice. That, fundamentally, was what she was endeavouring to find.
But there were others who already had a voice.
The phenomenon had not be localised, so it was worth a halfhearted try.
She moved through the streets, picking up the various newspapers as insurance, and eventually finding herself in front of a desk.

"Good morning," she bid the Disciplinary Committee clerk behind the counter. "I'm here to ask if anyone's heard news of a Grayson Brusky?"
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

Onyx had slowly gotten annoyed as he was forced to keep shouting. His throat was starting to hurt. But, he eventually got lucky when Albert finally noticed him. Not wanting to keep shouting, he slowly made his way closer to Albert while doing his best to stay… ‘safe’. The last thing he wanted was to be involved in some workshop accident.

“Yeah, dude. I, uh, I need a… Knife. Like, I guess kind of like a hunting knife.” He said as he made motions with his hand, trying to provide a visual representation of what he needed. “Well, y’know, something… Sharp. And durable. It has to be durable.” He shrugged awkwardly, trusting that Albert knew what he was talking about.

“Also, you think I need a haircut? I’ve been feeling like I need a haircut.”
[/fieldbox]
 
[fieldbox= Caelan Lughr / Student to Education District, royalblue, solid] The night hadn’t lasted much longer for Caelan after the incident with prosthetics girl and the Committee members. There were a few things he had done back at his apartment, but it was more of just going through the motions. The day had been more draining than any other in quite some time, and sleep came easily and peacefully. No dreams or nightmares of what had transpired plagued him that night, though he wasn’t exactly refreshed when he woke in the morning.

The forge was far from a quiet place. There was the constant dull roar of flames, the rush of billows, the ringing of hammers on steel, and more. Even the sound of metal clanging to ground, a failed piece subject to its smith’s frustration, was a regular. As the piece came to a halt, Caelan lifted his head to glance at the angry student before he turned back to the problem at hand. His staff wasn’t too badly damaged, and he should have been long done. Rather than being done though, he hadn’t even started yet and continued to turn the piece in his hands, running a finger over the dented area.

Eventually he placed the staff aside with a sigh and plucked out a puck of steel. Maybe a bit of forging would help get his mind back on track. The forge had died down since he’d brought it up to temperature, but a few quick twists and adjustments had the flames red hot in moments once again. Reaching forth to place the puck within, he leaned forward to watch as the metal began to absorb the heat and glow ever so faintly. A nod as he figured out exactly how long it would take was interrupted as he stumbled backwards, the tongs clattering to the ground noisily as he hands shot up to shield his face. A sudden rush of heat from the forge slammed into him, almost like a physical blow, and he stumbled backwards as he felt his eyes dry.

Scrunched shut, he could nonetheless hear someone approaching and he waved them off with a hand. His eyes blinked furiously, but he still had to squint when he looked to the forge. It seemed completely normal, save for the glowing red hot puck within. There was no way it should have risen up to temperature this quickly. Sighing, he rubbed at his eyes once more, but approached the forge cautiously nonetheless. Transferring the puck over towards an anvil, he twirled a hammer once before he gripped it properly and slammed it down onto the red hot metal. The first strike of many.

It was odd and frustrating, but mostly the latter. The forge hadn't acted up after that little incident, but it felt like someone had gouged out years of experience. The shattered pieces were a result of a single too strong swing, and he should have felt disgusted at the poor workmanship. Instead, there was a faint sense of elation as he looked upon the ruined materials. Disconcerted at the odd emotion, he shook his head a few times before he turned off the forge, cleaned up his workstation, grabbed his still damaged staff, and left the workshop.

Yesterday had been bad enough, but now his head was apparently fucking off too. He needed a drink... [/fieldbox]
 
@Random
A simple red-brick building, three stories tall, served as one of the many offices that the Disciplinary Committee had. Occupied by logistical staff shouting in the background and uniformed members heading out for patrol, there was a constant sense of orderly chaos in the air. Many other students were lined up as well, their inquiries ranging from lost items to reports of misconduct within their dorms. It took Alina a good ten minutes before the white-haired girl could be serviced by a clerk.

“Grayson Brusky, huh?” the mousy-haired lady mused. She tapped a pencil against her notepad, before deciding that such a name was simple enough that it didn’t need to be spelled out to her. “Give me a moment, miss.”

With that, she disappeared in the back, leaving Alina waiting for another three minutes before coming back. “Mr. Grayson Brusky,” the clerk said, “has had no misdemeanors of the late, though he was reportedly feverish yesterday, and thus, unable to attend his classes. If there’s any major problems, however, I’m sure his dormmates will notice and get help.”

The clerk smiled reassuringly then. “Nothing to worry about, Miss.”

@Jageroux
“Hunting knife?” Albert smiled, wiping the sweat off his brow. “What, you planning on going hunting in Ringrange’s grand wilds? Maybe you should get a haircut after all. Or just get some gel to get those bangs of yours out of your eyes, Onyx.”

He laughed at his own joke, before calling out, “KNIFE MOLD! ONE!”

“WHAT’S IT FOR?” An older student called out from across the room, voice almost inaudible against the roar of the machine.

“PUTTING THE PRESSER TO WORK!”

“GOT IT, GORILLA!”


Another shovel full of coal, before the blue-haired youth turned, thrusting the shovel at Onyx. It was heavier than expected, even without any coal in it. Albert slapped Onyx on the back. “Well, already saw how I did it, right? I’m going to have to start up the grinding belt and get your knife up to snuff, bushmaster, so cover me, yeah?”
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]
He laughed awkwardly in response to Albert's 'humorous' inquiry as to why he needed the knife, but he was overall glad he wasn't pressed further. He had thought up a couple of bullshit reasons as to why he'd need it, but he was certain Albert would know he was lying. Onyx didn't exactly have the best poker face, after all.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Onyx said as he took the shovel and almost dropped it, barely maintaining his grip on it as the weight caught him off guard. Blinking, he looked to Albert with clear confusion on his face. "Little warning next time?" He inquired before readjusting his grip as he moved forward, swapping places with Albert.

"Also, I'll have you know my bangs are perfect, buddy." Onyx quipped as he began to shovel the coal. All in all, it wasn't too bad. While it was a slight strain on his back and arms, it wasn't anything he couldn't reasonably do. Being so caught up in listening to call outs and following orders, he lost track of time. Eventually, though, he took a short break. Lightly leaning on the shovel, he wiped the sweat from his brow before sighing.

"How much longer..." He whined out through a stretch, a hand still clutching the shovel as he wondered if Albert was done.
[/fieldbox]
 
"Feverish, hm?" she smiled. "I see. Thank you. I apologise, I'm just a bit of a worrywart sometimes."
With that, she left, making her way around a dozen paces from the door before furrowing her brow in her attempts to discern whether she was frustrated, bewildered, or relieved.

She walked quite a while before stopping.
Unnecessarily far, in fact. Whether it was because she was preoccupied with her thoughts or simply down to a near-nauseating urge to be away from anywhere familiar, she couldn't say, but she eventually found herself sat on a certain bench on Roaring Surf Street.
She took a moment to sit back and observe the world around her.
She saw what she normally would have.
Lovers wandered by, the occasional might-be-lost gaggle of first-years who had made their first friends the night before, sometimes a pigeon or two would land at her feet despite her lack of offerings to grant them.

It was relaxing.
It was terrifying.
This wasn't like her.
She should have been analysing them, picking everything apart, calculating statistical likelihoods, making inferences, drawing conclusions. It was the only thing she knew how to do.
It was the only real skill Alina October had to her name.
Why was she so content to just watch all of a sudden?
She racked her brains for an answer, but nothing came. She tried to draw up probabilities in her head, but she didn't know where to start. She tried to come to an explanation, but had no data.
Yet throughout, those voices in the back of her mind were happy to provide her little more than a tiny inkling of a full understanding.

That′s not who you are anymore.

No matter what she tried, she didn't understand the system.
She couldn't even see the processes used to find that meaningless answer.
But despite everything, for a mere moment, she didn't deny it.

Enough. Enough. Calm down.
Alina came to the sudden realisation that she was hyperventilating.
Slowly lowering her breathing to normal, she wiped some cold sweat from her paled forehead, and began to regain her composure.
It wasn't like her to panic.
But then, none of this was like her.
As of that night, as of dying, she had developed an entirely different way of thinking.
Before, all that mattered was data. Something had changed. She couldn't tell what.

But it didn't matter at the moment.
She had something she needed to do.
Arranging the newspapers in numerical order, she got to reading.
 
@Jageroux
“Wow, Onyx, wanna change your name to Spaghetti?” That familiar voice sounded behind him, before a callused hand relieved the poor youth from his burdens. More accustomed to dealing with small tools in a cool, dry environment, it didn’t come up as much of a surprise that Onyx was much more tired than usual. His sweat literally evaporated, and his arms did indeed feel like spaghetti. No doubt it was great training, but on the other hand? Holy shit he felt like collapsing.

Nevertheless, the fruits of his labour were rewarded by a large blade with a relatively rough grind. There wasn’t any sort of beautiful pattern, and the grip was really just dark leather straps wrapped around and the glued on, but at the same time, it was a very functional thing, roughly the length of Onyx’s forearm.

“Long as you don’t stab some poor chap to death with this, feel free to advertise our work, dude. Now seriously, go get a cold drink. You look like a sweaty ghost.”
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

"Never again." Onyx breathed out with a sigh, passing the shovel back to Albert. He rotated a shoulder to emphasize just how uncomfortable the work had been, but when his eyes fell upon the weapon, he knew it had been worth it. Holding the knife in his hand, he looked over it with a keen eye, legitimately impressed by how it turned out even if it wasn't exactly anything special. "Thanks, man. Really appreciate it - I owe you one." Onyx said, exchanging a few pleasantries before leaving.

Stepping back out onto the street, Onyx kept the knife wrapped in his jacket as he ambled down the street. He was pretty tired, but he wanted to eat. But he felt too tired to eat. He groaned before sighing, hanging his head as he kept walking.

'I'll head back to my dorm, eat then sleep I guess. Been a long day, may as well try to chill.' He decided mentally while heading back to tram. 'I wonder if there's any pet shops where I can get a rabbit. That'd be nice.'
[/fieldbox]
 
VhkoLdS.png

=============
Madelon Vallois

The price of wandering was that your destination was up in arms; why she had to have found her way into the Pleasure District, Madelon griped silently at. This was no place for someone like herself, despite it being not unlike the atmosphere of her early years. The sights, sounds, and smells never grew on her, and she refused to adapt to such lowly environs.

She was about to turn back for somewhere else, perhaps a street joint for some cheap food, when someone spoke to her.

The grunting, brutish voice roused her attention from inwards thought to her surroundings. It was only then that she had noticed... When had she decided to walk so close to a parlor itself? She blinked a few times, looking about. The Imperial Harem. Tasteful. Madelon parsed what the man had said to her and frowned. Was it the immediate assumption that, as a woman, she was there to enlist in the ranks of pitiful, purchasable meat?

Madelon seemed briefly like she was ready to spit at the man, but thought better. She'd gone those few days without a fight thus far, and being of her stature and strength, it would be unwise to start trouble amidst undoubtedly brutish individuals.

"Apologies," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "I was not 'zinking where I was going." The 'Morceban bitch' turned on her heels, beginning to make away from the site of debauchery.
 
Disgusting and enticing. Familiar and exotic. Obnoxious and clandestine. Polar opposites waltzed within the cavernous space, the yin and yang of humanity broiling in a place where sunlight would never shine. It was perpetual night, the ‘clouds’ so thick that it was fire and lightning that cast shadows, a smog of tobacco and opium drift upwards. A whimsical paradise, an obscene temple. Drinks were purchased, destinations were set, all amidst…

…the gentle chatter of the restaurant, waiters pirouetting around customers as they delivered dish by steaming dish under the orange haze of the afternoon. It was a comfy establishment, pasta and pizza being a specialty. The forks and knives, silver, glittered under the incandescent lighting, as a baritone serenade rattled from a music box. The clockwork machinations were fascinating in how they could replicate voices, but at that moment, it was the…

…words that entranced her the most. They did not swim in her eyes, invisible connections did not form from article to article. No, they simply stayed where they were, as her ears filtered out the buzz of the crowd passing by her. Frightening and yet, calming, the experience of merely ‘absorbing’ information was. There was no longer a frantic hive, no longer ideas forming at near-light speed only to self-destruct and reform. It was merely a pleasant experience. Perhaps she could…

…stop now. The silver-haired bartender was glancing in his direction, both at the tab he had accumulated and at himself, downing drinks one by one by himself. He could feel the warmth spreading from his core into the rest of his body, tension slowly fading away even as his own thoughts became more muddled. His staff was still not repaired, but his own pride would not allow him to ask for someone else to fix it for him. The dim lighting, the almond-smell of cheap cigars, the clatter of billiards, it twisted and turned, filling him with…

…nothing at all. Only a quiet, lonely room. Her room, unadorned with any decorations that would have made it ‘hers’. It was much smaller than her personal room back home, but it was also much too large. The ceiling was too high. The bed was too big. The empty space was simply cavernous, as if it would swallow her solitude whole. The entire day was spent there, and still, she couldn’t feel comfortable at all. Something was missing, a certain drive that she was missing in the core of her being. It was bitter, and though she was hungry, she…

…awakened, one eye glimmering.

A
P
A
R
T
Falls
The World
The Bell selects
The cogs spin
The scales shift
The pendulums swing

.
.
.

<World Degeneration Initialize>
<World Degeneration Complete>


They stared.

Into the endless darkness.

Into the stardust ocean.

Into the marble graveyard.

The three altars they stood in.

And the gray sun that remained in every one of them, peering from above.
<Destructed World Manifested>
<Destructed World Stabilized>

@Asuras @Zombehs
There was no light, and yet, they could still see themselves. Were they floating? Were they falling? Were they upside down? With no landmarks and no sense that even gravity was properly affecting their body, there was an incredible sensation of disorientation within the void. Punishment, perhaps, for their last choices? Or, maybe, this emptiness was preferrable to the hostile, self-destructive environment they were in before?

Only the light of their singular golden eyes shone within the blackness.

And only a murderous impulse, not their own, gave them any indication of what had to be done.

@Psyker Landshark @Click This
A field of debris floated all about them, glowing luminescently in the dark blue space. Below, there was no ground. Above, there was no sky. The field of debris continued on in every direction, each of them spinning around gently, bouncing against each other. The gravitational pull on their body was weaker than before, giving both of them a sense of weightlessness, but at the same time...if they fell, how far would they fall?

Up above, the gray sun persisted, debris forming an irregular staircase leading up to it.

There was no longer an eradicating light. No light at all.

As if it restrained itself to invite Icarus to the heavens.

@Jakers @Jageroux @Random
Ten thousand stone pillars rose up in rebellion of the azure sky as a thick fog obstructed the ground that their feet had settled upon. The heavy vapours chilled exposed flesh, and the air itself had a sharp taste to it. White breath left their nostrils and mouths, and silence reigned supreme over the solemn graveyard. Nothing moved. Nothing lived. The air weighed down on them, as if they were amongst those in a funeral service.

And the obelisk stood, all the same, standing above ten thousand pillars in reverence.

Compelling and repelling.

<Destroy the Targets Within The Time Limit>
<Prove Your Love Is True>


Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
 
The pillars stood.

The pillars watched.

Alina, at first, did not move.
Without so much as a twitch, still as the air around her, she analysed her surroundings.
It was definitely back.
That world, that Bell... It was all back.
Well, that made things at least partially easier.

She had died here before.
Here she was again.
So, this indiscriminate underworld had no taste for things such as "afterlife".

Or perhaps it was discriminate.
She was here before.
There were thousands of students in Ringrange.
Yet here she was again.

The Bell could make decisions, then?
Or perhaps it was simply taking the same actions over and over, cogs in a machine?
Either way, a trigger existed, a string to ring the Bell.

For the moment, it didn't matter. The... near side of the world was the place to worry about that.
She was grateful she had made the decision to wear a different outfit today.
Regardless, she gritted her teeth, staring up into the grey sun.
Lack of company made it easier to talk to what couldn't speak back, but she only had one thing to tell it.

"I was in the middle of something, you know," she muttered aloud.

She dropped the newspaper on the ground, reasoning it would only weigh her down, and set off forwards.
Movement would be easy to see here.
 
w e l c o m e
b a c k .


"...?!"

> t i c k .

"...Oh, no..."

> t i c k .

"...Don't tell me I'm..."

> T I C K .

====>>>>>

"...Damn."

It wasn't the irritated, unexpectedly furious 'damn' that would usually come from Yohan's mouth. Instead, it was quiet, and in some sort of sad monotone. As if he'd been expecting something like this, and although he'd hoped against everything that it wouldn't happen again, he was accepting. In a way, it was his punishment for instantly breaking the promise he made to whatever 'God' there was. He just couldn't help himself.

Chilly. At least his beloved coat was proving useful once again, otherwise he'd be shivering. Wherever they were this time, the place didn't feel 'empty' and 'nonsensical'. It just felt... morbid, and unsettling. His eyes slowly trailing around the area, Yohan slapped on a thin pair of gloves in his front pocket to keep every part of his body as warm as possible. These gloves would usually be used for hiding cards or dice, but now, were nothing more than a valuable piece of fabric.

Yohan wasn't annoyed anymore. He wasn't even questioning the nonsensical nature of everything anymore. Now, there was only one thought that was in his head: he had to survive. If he died here, he might go through what felt like an eternity of torture again. He had to use every bit of his wits not to let that happen. Whoever kicked his skull in last time wouldn't fell him so easily this time around. At least, he hoped.

Looking to his side, Yohan realized he wasn't alone. Just like last time, Onyx was with him. Unlike last time, however, Madelon wasn't here. Instead, she'd been 'replaced' with a white-haired girl who seemed strangely familiar. Yohan noticed how the left eyes of both were glowing a radiant gold, but didn't pay too much mind to it. It was likely some fuckery this world had up its sleeve; he wasn't going to be intimidated by it.

-------

As he turned his head, Yohan watched as the white-haired girl immediately set off as if she was in her own little world. Watching for a couple of seconds, Yohan shrugged, before turning to Onyx. He lifted up one gloved hand lazily in some form of greeting, before returning it to his pocket as he looked ahead as he spoke.

"Hey again. My fingers were crossed that we wouldn't meet again in these circumstances, but... what can you do." Yohan's eyes trailed to the forkful of spaghetti, and his mouth let out some sort of laugh as his eyes scanned the horizon, a golden eye glowing. "Damn. Looks like you had it rough. Denied of finishing pasta... I'd have lost my will to survive already if I were you."

A cloudy breath emitted from under Yohan's mouth as he looked up to the azure sky, the obelisk accompanying the thousands of pillars. Before, he hated this, but now... in a strange way, he found it oddly beautiful. There was something so enticing about the gloom of the place. It was almost... relaxing. After his odd appreciation of the environment, Yohan turned back to Onyx.

"Anyway. I'll follow your lead this time, if you'll have me." Yohan said. His voice was a smooth monotone, and oddly friendly in comparison to himself last time, almost as if he'd turned into a different person. "Though, you should know... last time around, I made it to the obelisk. And... nothing seemed to happen. All I saw was countless bodies. Your body was one of them. Then, some unkind lady stomped my head in. Maybe that makes the obelisk pointless. I still don't know why it's there."

He paused, nodding in the direction of the white-haired girl who'd dropped a newspaper and was heading straight off.
"Come to think of it, I recognize her face in the pile of bodies, too. Speaking of which... do you know who she is?" Yohan examined her as he talked. There was something oddly... robotic, about the girl, which made Yohan hesitate from calling out or approaching her. "She's heading straight off as if she has an idea of where she's going."
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

Onyx had been quite content, sitting in the warm restaurant enjoying his delicious spaghetti. After working in the Blacksmith Club, he had really needed time to wind down and rest. And after resting on the tram, he had quickly made his way to his favorite restaurant, and ordered his favorite dish - good old spaghetti. And it had been great; he had been so focused on enjoying his meal, he had forgotten his paranoia about being pulled back into that strange, strange world.

At least until he got pulled back into it.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Onyx shouted, standing around awkwardly as he held onto the fork of spaghetti, eyes narrowed. "Son. Of. A. Bitch." He cursed as he stared at the fork, very much aware that he still had half a plate of spaghetti with his name on it. With a grumble, he shoved the fork into his mouth, finishing the remainder of his spaghetti.

Shoving the fork into his pocket, he did a look over of the surrounding area and sighed. Okay, he was alone unlike last time. Looking down at his feet, he noticed his bunched up jacket and knelt down, unwrapping the knife before pulling his jacket on. Grabbing his knife, he stood while his grip tightened.

Looking around, he had a sudden realization that he wasn't alone.

Okay, maybe he really did need to do something about his bangs.

'Dammit.'

"Suh, dude." Onyx said as he leaned his head towards Yohan in greeting. "I want to get this shit over as quickly as possible, honestly. I still have some spaghetti to finish, dammit." He complained as he looked to Alina, watching as she walked off. He was a bit put off by how... Mellow Yohan seemed to be, but he understood in his own way.

"Her name is Alina. We were together when we got killed. Well, there were 2 others, but they're not here. As it stands, the obelisk is the only thing that's actually notable, so we may as well head there. There's a chance, last time we got unlucky, or maybe this is just all some sick joke and we're just supposed to keep fucking dying." Onyx said before shrugging. "But, I have no intention of just laying down and taking it. C'mon." He motioned for Yohan to follow him as he jogged after Alina.

"Hey, Alina. Allie. Girl. Wait up!" Onyx said, catching up with her. "You heading back to the obelisk, or do you know something we don't?" He inquired while walking alongside her, curious as to whether or not she knew something they didn't.

@Jakers @Random
[/hr][/fieldbox]
 
Alina responded to the calls near instantly.
"Onyx. So I was right," she greeted. "It's good to see you, for what it's worth. I hope you're armed this time."
Because I'm not.
She observed the glowing eyes of the two boys, but didn't comment.
There were other things to worry about.

"I'll get straight to the point," she said. "I don't think there is 'the obelisk' this time. Not as it was before, at any rate. The one up there isn't how it used to be. But my guess is that it's probably best to get out of here as quickly as we can. I don't like the atmosphere here, but more to the point..."
She gestured at the pillars around them.
"What does this place look like to you two?"
 
"Yeah... me neither. As crazy as this place is, I've got a strange feeling in the back of my head that it can be 'beaten'. We just need to figure it out, no matter how many tries it takes." Yohan said in reply to Onyx's last remark, before he ran to catch up with the white-haired girl.

Following behind Onyx as he caught up to the so-called 'Alina', Yohan kept his gloved hands in his pockets as he kept walking at a brisk pace, smoky breath coming from his mouth as a result of the cold. If random things were going to happen to the environment again, this place was going to be far deadlier than the last. And this time, he didn't coincidentally have his wacky invention to bail him out of a situation; he hadn't been expecting to return here again.

"I've got a weapon," Yohan spoke up, "But I doubt it'll come in handy if someone's armed with a firearm again. It's just a switchblade, mostly." He flicked it out of his coat, the gilded brass blade reflecting azure light, before putting it straight away again. He'd bought this with him in the 'real world' if things went especially hairy whilst gambling. "It might be better to run from someone with killing intent anyway; these pillars will make it hard for them to get a clear shot."

As Alina asked what the pillars reminded him of, Yohan replied with the first thing that came into mind.

"...Gravestones. The place oddly reminds me of... a graveyard." Yohan replied. "Is that where you're getting at? Because I get a feeling of dread here as well. What scares me the most about it is that it feels oddly... relaxing." The man shivered for a moment, before snapping out of it. "Either way, getting out of here might be the best idea. No doubt there'll be some traps waiting for us. But... what if the obelisk is the right option this time?"
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

"Good to see you too. And yeah, I actually got to prepare this time." Onyx said as he raised the knife, showing it to both of them. He wasn't sure if it'd actually be extremely useful, but it was better than nothing. Looking over to Yohan when he brought up the switchblade, Onyx couldn't fight the immature snicker that escaped him. "Mine's bigger." He remarked, trying to remain calm and keep the mood light even in the drab graveyard.

"You're right, this place is definitely a graveyard." Onyx agreed as he looked around before huffing out a sigh. "And, if that's the case... The obelisk could totally be a red herring. If we all died the last time we were here, and now we're in what's essentially a graveyard, maybe we have to find our 'gravestones', which could be any one of these damn pillars, to be honest. Or, maybe we're supposed to go to the obelisk and maybe we won't get fucked over again." He pondered over the choices they were faced with before shrugging.

"I think it'd take too long to try and search for gravestones that may not even be real, honestly. And the obelisk is the only real... Landmark. I think it'd be safest to head there. We know for a fact we weren't the only ones brought here last time, right? So what if the others got dropped off here as well? Chances are they'd head for the obelisk. So I think we should do the same, we'll just have to be careful. Because I'm really not planning on getting shot in the face again." Onyx remarked as he kept walking, focused solely on the obelisk. "You guys hear the ticking too, right? It's definitely not just me? And we're ignoring the glowing eyes, yeah? Either that or I'm completely off my rocker."
[/fieldbox]
 
"A graveyard? Is that what it seems like?" she muttered.
She could kind of see it, but...
"It looks to me more like a hunting ground."

She considered their options.
"That obelisk isn't, strictly speaking, a good idea. It's just a theory, but there's a good chance that someone like the cloaked girl from before will be protecting it. I can't see us standing a chance against that duplication ability of hers or anything similar, let alone superhuman capabilities. So unless you two have got any supernatural powers of your own, the obelisk is best avoided until we've mapped out the area a little. Any traps we do find would help in that regard as long as you two keep your eyes open for them. That said," she added, "we don't have forever. That ticking is definitely a time limit. I get the feeling the closer it is to zero, the more likely we'll either be killed or get sent back to the near side. It doesn't help that we can't see the damn clock."

She looked at the pair of them, somewhat inquisitively.
"As for the glowing eyes... Well, I'm working on that," she sighed. "I saw something similar on Marionette back over on the near side, so I have a hunch, but I'm not going with that just yet."
She paused for a minute.
"Now I'm thinking about it, it's probably best to plan this up front. There's a certain bench on the Surf, overlooking the canals. If we die here again, meet up there. If we get split up, tell anyone else you meet to do the same."

She sighed internally. She was giving a lot of instructions like she knew what she was doing, but everything she supposedly knew was just built on theory.
This was not a good position to be in.
 
VhkoLdS.png

=============
Madelon Vallois

Madelon froze, nearly tripping upon nothingness. Were her eyes shut? No, there was a glow... From below, from above... Madelon lifted her hands to find that it was stemming from her own skin. What had happened? Did the fumes of the underground finally get to her? She instinctively sniffed the empty air to find it was surprisingly vacant of odour. Enshrined in darkness, it took her a moment to come to realize it was, at the very least, fairly real.

As real as the otherworld she'd drowned in, at least.

Madelon spun about, trying to get a bearing of her position. She traced the 'sky' for crumbling buildings and the ground for water. There was nothing. This place was not like the last, but no less mysterious and ineffable. Madelon found herself examining the glow for a few moments before something else came to find; an anger, perhaps? No, it was fury. Violence? It was on the tip of her tongue as she decided to take a step forward in no direction in particular.

A need. She was sure it was at least a need, but being violent, she feared to call it what it was.

A killing intent.

Madelon was not one for violence, much less murderous. The feeling felt alien despite how clearly she could understand its meaning. As she proceeded 'forward', she eventually came upon a second source of light. It was faint, but clear in the abyss. Two lights, close to on another... at eye level. Madelon stopped in her tracks, peering into the darkness. Who was that? Or rather, what could it be? Against her better senses, worry urged her to call out.

"Who's out 'zere?! Speak!" she shouted, shifting her legs as if preparing to throw out a pitiful punch.
 
[fieldbox= Caelan Lughr / ???, royalblue, solid] In response to Madelon’s voice, the singular glow faded slowly as an eyelid closed over it. There was a dull thump and a sharp crack before the a very human groan crawled its way out of whatever was in front of her. Punctuating the drawn out noise were the dull thumps as Caelan felt around with his hands, face still into the ground. Not finding what he searched for there was a resigned, “Fuck,” before he reopened his eyes. The glow illuminated both the ground and his face for the moment before he sat back up, and his visage was shadowed once more.

It was a rather novel sensation Caelan would admit. His thoughts came slower, so he clearly had too much to drink, but the urge he felt cut clean through the haze. It wasn’t a very powerful urge, thankfully, but it was… focused, for a lack of better description. Not too hard to ignore once he placed it, even if it was unwarranted as far as he knew.

There wasn’t much to recognize in the surroundings, but he could only imagine it was a similar situation to yesterday’s, and wasn’t that a joyous realization. It didn't seem like he would just be allowed to wait and waste away again with the urge in his heart, but he was not in the right state of mind to be figuring things out right now. Sighing as he pressed a hand to his face, Caelan grunted a few as jagged edges pressed against his skin and blood marked his face.

Well shit,” he remarked, slightly slurred as he stared at the glass shards lodged within his palm. The glow thankfully illuminated them rather clearly, and he patted around his waist for a knife and drew it. In the light cast by his eye, the steel would certainly gleam and be quite visible to Madelon. He worked carefully, but the alcohol shook his normal steady grip and extracting the shards wasn’t as clean as Caelan would have liked. A few muttered curses aside though, it seemed he finally remembered that he was not alone a few moments after the last shard had been flicked from his palm and he looked up towards Madelon.

So who are you? Another Ringrange student?” [/fieldbox]
 
Heidemarie Krupp
~~~~~~~~~

After her days’ worth of misfortune and haplessness, Heidemarie retired to the relative safety of her dormitory. Changing into some fresh clothes and setting aside the spoiled blouse, the Krupp girl sat at her desk, contemplating on the mysterious and frightening events of the day. Although her mind felt fogged and unsure, she still had a bit of edge in her before the day ended to put her experience and thoughts to pen in a journal; written evidence of the destructed world that she’d blinked in and out of.

“This is not how it is supposed to happen…”

Murmuring to nobody, she closed the journal with droopy eyes. Slowly, she set her head down upon its leather cover as drowsiness overtook her.

Blink.

Her eyes fluttered open once more. She didn’t know how much time had passed. She blinked again, for yet another time, she was no longer in a place that she would call familiar. Heidemarie nearly jumped back, but there was nothing for her to step on; all around her was debris. Earth nor heaven seemed to exist here beyond the luminescent detritus around her. Finally composing herself, she looked all about.

Craning her head up and behind, she refused to move from her spot despite the feeling of weightlessness. She didn’t want to take the chance. Up above was the same uncanny sun that had greeted her before. She didn’t want its unfeeling radiation pouring down on her, and Heidemarie immediately looked away, eyes locking on the debris near it, forming a terrifying staircase in its path. She averted her eyes.

“Is this not a dream? I want nothing of this...”
 
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