thusia | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: New Arrival and You
When: Day 119, Late Night
Where:Shrines Area
What: Not Being Okay With Things

[Everyone arrives in the Shrine Area, of course. Some people are panicked. Some are angry. Some cry.

And then sometimes, they arrive naked and strapped down to a metal surgical table that is half corroded beneath their head and shoulders, still strapped down with thick leather and steel bands.

There is a moment of silence before the table's legs beneath the corrosion shriek and crack, giving way and collapsing it to the side. The young man on top of it is suddenly snapped into a silent if slightly hysterical struggle to break free of the restraints, being not very successful, though anyone nearby can probably hear the snap of bones and ligaments in his shoulders.

Edit: Also this guy is new and you should touch him too]

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Careful now. Do you plan to flee from scavengers as appetizing scraps? The one with a limp is a poor casting choice.

In my professional opinion... you may need a doctor.

[o-oh god that is not the sanest laughter you've heard, quite dramatically the opposite really]

Aha, they've a sense of humor yet.

I would offer my services... they go well beyond a lift off the ground.

You would be my first patient in an uncomfortable amount of time. But I imagine your current discomfort is comparable.

You need but ask.

[you can't see his eyes, but you can see the grin...]

... try it...

Is that, "Yes, grace me your services," or "I'm underfond of plucky healers and have hidden appendages covered in poison?"

[l-laughing -- about the time someone gets his restraints free, and he tumbles to the ground, drawing back away from him to get his back against the metal of the table]

... second guess maybe~

[standing with his feet apart, he doesn't move past his easy posture and his tone is still disaffected.]

You'd be a terrible gambler. Were those straps for my protection?

They were for what they were~

To restrain you.

If you don't want my help, you needn't worry, I shan't give it. But I am curious. Most of us come to this tribe with freedom.

... Tribe?

Essentially. A collection of souls, long or fresh dead, from all threads of the sky's tapestry. Brought to a similarly freshly killed planet, to find our way together.

Ah... I forgot, terrible. Decisem fluor caed resthis gentro, parl caed wrensthis virouem.

Hm. It doesn't have the same ring said to a soul already at its destination.

Edited 2013-02-20 18:59 (UTC)

[not even sure what you just said and since part of that was gibberish the few latin-esque sounding words probably don't correspond the same...]

Ah well.

Bless your heart.

Calming down? Have I confused you? Are you in shock?

... Souls... [shakes his head] That's wrong.

Accurate. Do you deny my reality?

Should I?

If you wish to be incorrect.

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