ataraxites: (Default)
axmods. ([personal profile] ataraxites) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2013-08-22 11:17 am

EVENT: CULTURAL STUDIES ▒ THE CYLLENE

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The Cyllene.
WARNINGS: Disturbing content, injury, graphic imagery, death etc.
SUMMARY: Exploration and looting of a luxury-class death maze.
NOTES: Open to all! Network discovery is HERE. Have fun forward and back-dating, but don't forget to check the timelines!


The Cyllene welcomes you with bright lights and luxury interiors, kitchens stocked with every food you could desire, bedrooms outfitted with lush furnishings, closets full of the finest clothes. Take your fill - there's no one here to stop you, and it's easy to overlook the sense of emptiness, the plates of half-eaten food and media devices still playing like the viewer only just stepped out a moment ago. The unwelcoming feeling crawling up the back of your neck is just that, a feeling — so there's no sense in letting it dissuade you from enjoying everything the Cyllene has to offer, is there?

circumitus: Completely decimated and my hand was all bloody and covered with glass. Weird dude, never saw him again ever since. (got into a bar fight last night)

(DAY FOUR) OPEN → Trapped Room

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-08-24 07:12 pm (UTC)(link)
How long has it been now? Her communicator says four days. She's been in this place for four days, and she has been trying to get out for three. After several hours worth of not seeing a single soul left in the halls, chasing after phantoms and exits, Rey tires herself out on the floor. More often than not she is able to pry them apart, but other times...

The door opens.

But as soon as she scrambles to get feet, grabbing her duffle bag -- it immediately makes to close again.

"No--!" Rey shouts, voice hoarse as she lunges for the door edges to prevent them from snapping together again.

Only they do it fast this time. Too fast. The fake-heart beating in her chest skips several beats when pain erupts from her hand, her arm, and thunders into her brain.

Blood.

Her hand comes loose rather than breaking the door. When she does, blood splatters across the floor, dripping from her hand. All that's left on her right hand is her thumb and forefinger.

With a shaky breath, she stumbles backwards and crumbles to the ground with a grunt. But no screams. She does not scream. Even when the bloody stumps of her fingers enclose in the palm of her other hand, her teeth grind as she tries her best to stop the bleeding.

To stop the bleeding. Yes, she can do that. She knows how. Bringing a package of heat from inside of her own body, she transfers it into her hand. Rather than evoking too much heat to generate fire from her blood, she puts just enough of it into her right hand that she is able to burn into the stumps where her fingers used to be. Now cauterized, the bleeding stops and she is at ease again, her breathing shallow.

Sweat beading from the side of her face, Rey crab-walks back to her duffle bag in the corner of the room, nursing the raw wound in her right hand that is now blistered and boiled.

It's only skin.