InsaneJournal

Who: Cheryl Mason & OTA
What: The search for stress relief
When: Day 5, late morning/early afternoon
Where: The Carnival
Rating: TBD (Obligatory PG-13 for possible language
Status: Active





All experiment and no sleep made Cheryl something something...

Braindead would be a good word to fit in there, Cheryl mused to herself as she wandered idly down the middle of one of the Captio streets. Really really pissy worked, too, if one wanted to take into consideration the fact that she seemed to be content with muttering 'fuck' under her breath with every other step. The thought that she might well have finally passed the border into crazy town occurred to her, but she placed it aside with the slightest of mental shrugs. After all, she hadn't been crazy enough to pass up the chance of having a shower with real soap and real conditioner nor had she been crazy enough to pass up the weird knife which had been stuck haphazardly into the side of the gym. Of course, finding the knife necessitated finding a makeshift sheath and, when that couldn't be found, she ended up having to craft fair one together from a few handy materials left in the thrift store. The knife was currently safely sheathed against her left hip and well concealed under the bulk of the oversized peacoat she had scavenged earlier. Her craft project finished, she was currently off in search of a safe way to work out some of the emotion which had been worked up ever since she had awakened in that damned cell.

The carnival, though unspeakably creepy, had many games which, when not operated by creeps just looking to bilk idiots out of their money, were almost perfect. They did offer the chance to toss balls and other hard objects at targets and there was little to no chance that anything bad could come from pitching a few balls at some stacked bottles or even tossing some undersized basketballs at equally undersized hoops. Unfortunately, almost every game stand Cheryl passed seemed to have rows of small pink bunnies with red-stained mouths as prizes - and she just couldn't make herself stand in front of those for even a second.

It was because of this that Cheryl eventually came to stop in front of a stand with only a few dopey looking stuffed dogs as prizes. The game, itself, was one that she had been raised to call cornhole. The object of the game was to toss small beanbags through a hole cut into the middle of a board and, of course, the boards on the far wall of the stand were painted specially for this carnival, even if much of the paint had since worn away. Deciding that this game looked harmless enough, she leaned over the counter until her feet were well off the ground in search of the beanbags to go with the game.