MarinaNova Asylum

[001. Trains]

[It's scenic, long stretches of green hills and towering blue skies. In the distance is a wide expanse of water, glittering in the afternoon sun. The wind rolls through, bringing up the smell of the water through the open doors of the box car. The train's traveling slow, and it's through the floor of it he feels every familiar jostle and bump on the tracks. He lounges there, outstretched with his hands behind his head and the sun soaking warmly into his skin.

He doesn't care about anything but the feel of freedom. There is nothing else but this.]

[002. Forsaken]

[The hallway's dark and nearly endless, stretching out to dark expanses and turning or twisting should you walk too far past the only open door. The path will always lead you back, to a checkerboard floor covered in shattered glass. Lightning cracks behind half-broken windows, where red velvet curtains hang and the entire room may seem dated to those who aren't from the late 19th century. Obscured paintings, plush rugs beneath old curved couches in the parlor -- there's a lingering feeling of dread.

And there's Tyki Mikk, hunched forward on one couch with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.]

[003. Wildcard]

[If you have another idea, feel free to IM/ PM me and we can wing it.]

[001. Operating Room]

[The operating room is brightly lit and the scent of antiseptic thick in the air. A barrage of lights are maneuvered over a body on the table, and a gathering of doctors stand surrounding it on both sides. Karev is the only one in scrubs with a defined face, the others have features that swap and slide, faces that seem indescribable. But he has no reason to scrutinize them, for nothing seems wrong to him right now. He is in his element. He hears that familiar snap of gloves, just scrubbed his hands clean and slid the mask up his nose to begin his incision.

He works on a middle aged woman, a young man, the bodies turn younger the more relaxed Karev feels in his own skin. Because he works in Pediatrics, he's more in tune with tiny newborn hearts, tiny lungs and sutures so small it's nearly impossible to see them. This is where he belongs, everything he longs for.]

Scalpel. [He holds his hand to the side for the instrument. Is almost cheerful.]

[002. The Ward]

[The lights are dim because it's late at night, the hospital is everything he remembers it and he feels at peace there. The squeak of his sneakers on the floor, the swish of his lab coat as he checks on his patients. They're all sleeping rather sound, laying in little cradle like beds and for the smaller ones, plastic incubators to keep them warm.

Karev lingers, because somebody ought to keep these ones company tonight. There's nobody else around. So he slips his hand in to one, nudging a preemie's hand with his finger and letting his lip quirk when she curls her fingers around it in turn.]

[Shallan panicked as she started falling asleep] Pattern, no, I don't want to sleep... [despite everything she tries to do, the girl falls asleep... and dreams..]
[Dream One]

White carpet. A picture, hanging on the wall in the back. Furniture, walls painted light blue. You can be sitting on one of the chairs, or the floor, though you seem to have regressed in age to being a child of about eleven or twelve. Two adults burst into the room, one shouting. The woman wore a dress of blue and gold, her red hair falling around her shoulders. Mother. The man you don't recognize. Mother shouts at you, calling you "one of them" as her friend pulls a weapon on you.

Father rushes into the room and attacks the man while Mother advanced on you.

(ooc - This dream can quickly go darker, depending on how you want to go with this.)

[Dream Two]

The walls surround you, endlessly twisting back and forth on each other as you walk them, marking your way at every turn with some colored chalk. You can travel either up or down. Up leads to a room open to the sky. Down leads you deeper into the mountain.

[ i. the shipping container ]

[ The space is small, enclosed, and dark, but what might be the most prominent characteristic of all is the smell. It's overpowering, heavy with that telltale hint of copper that leaves it unmistakable to those familiar with it. Should you be one of those familiar, your suspicions would find themselves confirmed when you move. The resistance pulling at your steps is thanks to the viscous fluid thickly coating the floor - blood, congealing after being left undisturbed for days on the metallic surface.

There is no other trace remaining of the crime, not the killer nor the victim. It's simply an enclosed metal room coated in blood. Though nobody else is immediately visible, you may sense that you aren't entirely on your own. Someone is watching you, but whoever it may be is not apparent - not yet decided for your particular case. It could be a traumatized child, or it could be a predator waiting to strike. ]

[ ii. the sunshine state ]

[ This setting is certainly quite different. It's one of Miami's sunny beaches, teeming with tourists and locals alike, children playing in the water or on the beachfront playground as their families watch from their lounge chairs.

Dexter is here, and perhaps you find yourself near him, standing at the edge of the beach where sand meets grass, removed from the crowds and watching, more observer than participant himself. ]

[Dream 1]
Sarah walked through the Labyrinth. She just needed to get to the center… find her brother. A giant, fur-covered monster walked alongside her. Sarah kept talking to him when he suddenly disappeared. “Ludo?” she called out. THere was nothing for it but to keep going. And then things got really weird. Creatures jumped out and started singing about… taking body parts off? And not only that, they started juggling their heads!

[Dream 2]
Still in the Labyrinth… Sarah and Hoggle walked through a darkened hall. A beggar sat in the corridor. He asked what they were doing. “Nothing,” replied Hoggle. “Nothing? Nothing Tra la la.” The beggar stood and transformed into Jareth, the Goblin King. A confusing conversation later and then Hoggle and Sarah find themselves running from the Cleaners - a machine that will most certainly kill them

[Dream 3]
School. Lunchtime. Sarah always hated lunch. She didn’t have friends so she sat alone at one end of a table, ignoring the jeers and taunts. Just a few more hours and she could go home.

Dream 1 The ship was stopped, his crew was gone, and he was shot. It seemed like a hopeless cause as he stumbled through the ship to fix himself up and get the ship back in running order.

[OOC: Really, if you don’t know the plot and you want to find out more about it, you can read it here I’m happy to play out any bit of it. Perhaps you’re a crew member who refused his orders. Or maybe you’re a marauding pirate who’s here to kill him. You can get to him before he gets shot… I’m game for anything!]

Dream 2 Adolescence. Teen Mal is on a horse, busy rounding up the cattle. He also has chores to do, and schoolwork. Not real schoolwork mind you - the stuff his mom makes him do.

[OOC: Are you a ranch hand? Or a good friend from a neighboring farm? Or just some random stranger stopping by for the night.]

Dream 3 Mal sat up half naked in bed. He thought he heard a knock. He padded, barefoot, over to the ladder and opened the hatch, looking up at the shadowy form. “Inara? That you?” he called out.

[OOC: IF this goes into sexy territory, I prefer fading to black]

[ Option one: UnSub of the Week. ]

[ You’re hunted. Maybe you really did something, or perhaps you’re falsely accused but whatever happened, they’re on to you. The FBI is closing in. They know where you live, big black vans swarming like bluebottle flies outside the building, men and women in dark blue flak vests filing in, weapons at the ready. They’re on to you.

The soft footsteps of worn sneakers are coming closer in the hallway. They’re on to you. They’re almost here. ]


[ Option two: Compulsion to Move ]

[ You find yourself in a loft apartment. It’s dimly lit, shadows concealing most of the furniture aside from a lit circle in the middle of the floor. Two chairs pulled up, facing each other. Perhaps you’re tied to one of them, or maybe you’re just a bystander. Whichever you are, Reid is sitting in the other. Hands tied behind his back, blindfold fastened over his eyes.

Whatever is happening, it’s clear you’re not alone. ]


[ Option three: Phantasmagoria ]

[ The room is warmly lit, a deep golden sunshine filtering in from the tall windows, glistening off the leeches that are slowly and endlessly seeping out of the walls. Sawdust is flickering through the air, catching the light and piling onto the floor in soft, golden mounds, rippled like sand dunes around the electric chair that stands in the middle of the room.

There’s someone sitting in it, zipped up in a body bag. Slight movement reveals that it’s not a corpse. Aside from this, the room remains still and calm. ]

[ Option one: Home Sweet Home ]

[ You find yourself in someone’s back garden, apple trees heavy with fruit and laundry hanging out to dry in the warm summer breeze. There’s an earthy fragrance in the air, of ripe vegetables and pine tree sap, of deep lakes and golden fields ready for harvest. There’s a buzz of insects in the air, the sound of farm machinery droning on in the distance. Maybe the whinny of a horse.

A (potentially) familiar redhead is playing at the edge of the garden, red hair cut in a not too flattering bowl cut, but he’s only eight years old so it’s certainly forgivable. ]

[ Option two: Bar fly (the potentially sexy option aow aow ) ]

[ The bar is packed to the rafters, some faces human but a lot of them very much not. The buzz is loud, the music is loud and through the crowd weaves a potentially familiar face — Aidan is entranced in his work, cleaning glasses off tables and taking turns in the steaming hot dish room. Could use a break tho, if his red cheeks and sweat-damp forehead is any indication. ]

[ Option three: Echoes of War ]

[ There is no shape to the landscape. No landmarks, just a heavy stench of sweat and shit and blood, mingling with chemicals from explosives, the oily smell of a grease fire, of petrol leaking into the ground, of maggots crawling in an open wound. The sky, if it can be called that, is occasionally brought to life by blinding flashes in white and red, followed by a bone-deep rumble as the explosions shakes another little piece out of place.

An empty void of complete bone-chilling terror. You will die here. ]