The Disparity Reclamation of Time (Xnijmai - heliacalRebirth)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by heliacalRebirth, Dec 4, 2014.

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  1. Chapter One

    Advance is Life's condition

    The Grave but a Relay

    Supposed to be a terminus

    That makes it hated so —

    The Tunnel is not lighted

    Existence with a wall

    Is better we consider

    Than not exist at all —

    And so the snow fell.


    Some huddled together. Others curled up, shivering; wounded puppies directing a body they knew not what to do with. Those who had some semblance of a mind would cry out- the ones left with strong bones took steps towards homes. Yet there was no screaming or fighting now, because winter’s grip was tight at the day’s end.​
    Grey snow -the city-stained blanket of nature- erased their steps, their blood, and the corpse-lined streets. Disembodied moans were swept away by the wind. Knee high, the drifts blocked the doorways, rejecting the stranded remnants of what could loosely be described as human.​
    But humans they were no longer. The devolutions were a phenomena unable to be explained by any scientist. The rapid degeneration from man to demented cripple discriminated against none; it targeted just as many of the world’s leaders as it had the drug-laden urchins of the streets. Only in the chill of this early October storm had there been any respite from the masses of the devolved.​
    The second day of the blizzard was -if such were to exist- a blessing. Silence overtook the streets and seeped into the abandoned buildings, an eerie and tentatively accepted pause from the chaos. It is in one building in particular that two people encountered each other for the first time. Two people, that had seemed to each other to be unaffected by this forced return to the primordial. ​
    Thus, an alliance is formed...​
  2. "Muggh..."

    Regret hits like the fists of a drunken father, pounding against his skull as his alcohol soaked brain had recovered enough to find itself conscious.

    "Sweet Fuck..."

    It's been... God knows how long...Stuck in this room for longer than 2 months, not seeing another person for about a month now, at least face to face. He goes to reach for some sleep aid, only to find an empty bottle, it's contents drying up in a brownish puddle against the equally murky brown floor. It was a bit pathetic, but he almost gave a second thought about crawling his ass over there and slurp up what was still left.

    His last drop of bourbon. That was it, the 9th bottle out of 9 bottles.

    If he were a rational man, he would have rationed out the amount he had, to prepare for his indefinite hold up. Of course, if he were a rational man, he would have looted less booze.

    He wasn't so self-destructive that he didn't forget bring something to eat, though. Sacks of Potatoes and rice, cartons of very bad smelling, but still edible eggs, and the ever trust worthy cans of beans. The heaviness that starches and protein were supposed to help him sober up when he woke up so he could think straight. But with the blizzard settling in, his motive for trying to sort what in the hell was happening around the town fell short against his desire to dance with his Brown Lady Love.

    Cardinal Ferrio Vargas; scumbag Private Investigator, terrible father, an even worst husband, and disgraced ex-cop. And now the survivor of a modern day apocalypse. At least that's what it looked like before he ducked into this run down old hotel anyways. Disease, Biochemical warfare, Ancient Voodoo curse. What ever it was, it made people... Different.... And for reasons, perhaps his alcohol poisoned brain aided out in this, he wasn't afflicted with... Well... Whatever made almost everyone around him Flintstones out...

    "Christ on a stick... It's like another fucking Ice Age...."
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