InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "No apologies. No regrets."

Bellum Anon (bellum_anon) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-03-12 23:02:00

Entry tags:

plot: fables

Fables Plot Public Post!
Who: Public
What: The Open Post for Public Threading for the Epic Fable Plot
Where: Throughout the building.
When: 12:01
Warnings: Any number of crazy things could end up in here.
Notes: Alright! This post is for public threads only, and will be run party style. Anyone can jump into a thread at any time--just use your judgment! Feel free to hop around, go to different parts of the building, and mingle through the madness.

12:01. The beginning of a new day, just broken in, still fresh. Most of the building was sleeping, as decent people ought to be at such an hour.

The building, down at its foundations, was restless. A storm had been gathering for the past week, in its joints and its doorways, in its windows and its keyholes. 12:01, the storm broke over Bellum.

It was as if the building stretched, yawned, shook itself. There was a shudder in reality, as if the air itself was nothing more than a funhouse mirror. Faster than you could snap your fingers and the thing was done, set into motion before the darkest hours of the morning had yet come around.

A twitch, a snap, a static shock.

And then the changes started.

((OOC: Alright guys, go crazy! Feel free to post your location in the header of your comment so people can do a quick visual scan for the right comment and the right location. Mingle! Chat! Fight! Tackle one another!))

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Re: The stairwell to the eighth floor, 12:03 AM.

wickedwicker
2010-03-13 12:24 pm UTC (link)

The stairway echoed with the sounds of many steps, and the noise pollution wasn't helped by the presence of an audibly angry young woman. "Keep up," she snapped to the young man behind her, mounting the stairs and climbing quickly. Ever since she had come to this damned place it was one thing after another. First the elevator, then those idiots on the forums, and now she was green and accompanied by what seemed to be an extra from The Pirates of the Caribbean.

If she were more paranoid, she'd think that somebody was deliberately messing with her.

Her emerald hand curled around the banister as she climbed, her clogs sending soft echoes through the stairwell. Above, she could hear a bit of chaos, the gentle squeaking of a mob of mice. She paused a moment, looking down at the nearest stair. Mice? Alright, she knew that things were a bit crazy, but there was no way that this stairwell was packed with enough mice to make that kind of racket.

Shaking her head, she hurried up the circular staircase, breath hitching in her chest as she passed a man in a white shirt clutching a pocket watch. His frantic steps reminded her of her own, but she discarded the thought - he was probably just drunk, anyway.

She reached the eighth floor, throwing the door open and rushing into the hallway. With panic in her eyes, she launched herself at the nearest doorway - #807. Slamming her balled fist into the door, she leaned against the frame, filling the doorjamb with her presence. "Hello?!" she barked, forehead resting against the door and eyes squeezed shut. "Hello, is anybody there?!" Snarling at the lack of response, she grabbed the doorknob and jiggled it roughly, yanking at the door. "Hello!" She didn't even register the stinging in her palm as she struck the door with the flat of her hand - the panic was erasing it.