Mystery Thread 1# | Nemopedia & FenFren

[Manna Beast]

@Nemopedia and @FenFren

Genre: Space Opera
Gender Preference: Any x Any
Post Length: 2-3 paragraphs

Prompt: Character A and Character B wake up on a deserted space station with no memory of how they got there! It's up to you both to figure out what happened and to get off this space station, alive!

Time Limit: 10 posts each (20 in total) or May 29th (two weeks)

 

[FenFren]

@Nemopedia Halloo! ))



He felt the cold air wash over him, shocking him into consciousness. His fingers curled in, and out, trying to regain their sense of touch. Blinking with narrowed eyes, he began to analyze his unfamiliar surroundings. Now he spiraled into thoughts of confusion and panic. He struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the sore feeling in his muscles.

The lights were uncomfortably dim, and gave an eerie flash. There were fancy screens and tech everywhere, and he was in a sort of long hallway, with two doors at either end.

Standing for him was more than likely out of the question, so he didn't attempt it. He took this time to think, how did he get here? Where was here? Now that he thought further on it.. he didn't even remember who he was. Glancing down at himself, he took quick notice of the white-colored space suit on his body.

A name tag. Instantly, he grabbed the tag, reading the name aloud.

"Amaris," his voice was hoarse, and his throat parched, as if he'd been screaming at the top of his lungs at some point prior. He flinched back at the sound, not recognizing it as his own speech.

Well, at least he had gained some part of one of his questions, his name. It was odd that he didn't remember such a thing. Perhaps he'd hit his head too hard? Or brainwashed?

Amaris pondered if there were any other people lurking in this.. foreboding place.

That's when he saw the person lying next to him.

 

[Nemopedia]

A splitting headache was what woke him up. One that felt akin from drinking too much and passing out, accompanied with that parched dryness in his mouth that wouldn’t go away no matter how he smacked his lips together and scraped his throat. The type that made the back of his throat feel like razorblades as everything felt too loud and too bright to the rest of his numbed wakening senses.

“Eugh,” had been his response to ‘Amaris’, groaning at the sound of another presence breaking the silence and piercing through his aches. “Eugh,” he grunted in response, not realising the situation in which he found himself, or the suit on his body, or the fact that it was too eerily quiet for a place that wasn’t his room and not his bunker, or anywhere familiar at all. Not even that the voice earlier was unfamiliar.

But when a beep sounded and the g-force turned itself off and he felt himself floating there was no question to it that this wasn’t his own ship and he wasn’t in his own cabin.

“What the actual,” the surprise came, throat still parched but voice usable and another wince followed with that splitting headache that even made it hard for him to recall the earlier name or his own. By now he was forced to get off the surface on which he had laid earlier. If only because he was floating now, forcing him upright as eyes shut against the flickering light that was worsening the headache.

“W-water,” he managed to croak out, his body reacting instinctively to the years of training he had as he reached for a bar attached to the wall nearby, hoping to stabilise himself.

Through a mirror floating pass he caught a sight of himself, wearing a white suit and the name ‘Alwin E. Fuhrman’ printed on it.