e.m.p. from the mother and son tore the digital down dawned are the age of the innocent ones, the indigo children [ OOC | IC ] You've just awakened from a dream, though the details are already slipping away from you. There were shadows and flame, white and blue, and something else. It feels a little like it's still with you, whatever it was, like part of the dream had followed you out. It sinks into everything you look at, creeps into the shadows and settles there. Or maybe that's just your imagination, because the power is out and everything is darker than usual. It's strange. The power has gone out a couple of times before, during a terrible storm (or that one time someone wrecked the grid because their testing lab was right underneath it), but the emergency power had kicked on a couple of seconds later, all those other times. There should be some light, even if it's dim. There should be a hum of electricity somewhere, or the sound of churning mechanics far in the distance. Here, there is only silence and a thin sliver of moonlight under your door. You think you remember something clicking from that direction. Have the electronic locks failed, too? Did someone turn the deadbolt for you? Why would that happen? That's not how it works. Still, there are windows set high out in the hallway, and the full moon is bathing the tiled floor in a comforting blue. Why would you stay in here, with the bad dream, when you could be out there? There aren't any guards, even though there should be. Just a couple other confused children, just like you. Go say hello.