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| Derelict (Mind)e/state; [OPEN: to 'Hallucinations'] | |
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| Topic Started: Monday, 13. January 2014, 01:34 (2,892 Views) | |
| Sawyer | Wednesday, 15. January 2014, 06:49 Post #21 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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"Pelayo," a familiar gentle voice says, one clawed hand resting on the Malkavian's shoulder. No 'Agu' this time, and that was perhaps how the man would know that this apparition wasn't quite real. The second clue would be the fact that the massive Nosferatu is dressed like a wild west cowboy, spurs clicking on boots, a poncho draped over one broad shoulder, a hat dipped low and leaving his horrible face in shadows. "They can hurt you..." Was that supposed to be reassuring? "... because being hurt, well, that's how we know we're still human, ain't it?" Sawyer Flint is far more monstrous than the scarred man with the cane, but there is nothing but warmth in his strange, disarming golden eyes. "Death though... death ain't nothin' to be afraid of, not really. We done tangled with death once, and it didn't turn out too bad. Nah, death ain't your problem. If there's one thing that scares you worse than the thought of bein' dead, it's the thought of bein' alive. You ain't got any idea how to live, do you, Pelayo?" With one gnarled hand, he makes a little pistol and fires it at the scarred man and the voice of the beautiful, terrible girl. "Pew, pew," he echoes with a blasé chuckle. "Those folks sure ain't gonna help you learn, are they?" |
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| Cid | Wednesday, 15. January 2014, 09:05 Post #22 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Pelayo. Agustin shrunk back at first. But the Voice was familiar, friendly and a source of calm amongst this mind's storm. An oddly comforting set of claws on his shoulder. The distressed Malkavian turned to look upon the latest, most welcome of illusions... Oh. Fuck. The loudest fucking burst of laughter inhumanly possible. "BWAHAHAHAHA! AH-FUCK! EEE-HAHAHA! OH GODS..! AH, HA, HA, HA. Kekeke, tee-hee! Jejejeje!" It was deep, powerful and bellowing out of the abandoned home, down into the streets for all to hear. Like a cacophonous roar of demonic nightmares. Like booming mad Dracula. Indeed. Fuel for children's fears as it echoed down shadowy corners, causing strays to tuck tail and flee. Children jumped from their beds and ran for their parents' instead. All the while, the source of the outburst was having a terribly enjoyable epic cluster of a chuckle-fuck. In between giggles, Agustin couldn't breathe even if he had to. Though lungs reached for air, sides split with pain. "Gah! Hahaha-aha... Oh, damn. Fuckin' Sawyer!" Saying with a sarcastic drawl, "You sure know how to brighten a mood, Cowpoke!" He gave an enthusiastic pat for the big Nossie, still snickering like the madman he most assuredly was. He hadn't heard a damn thing the big ugly sibling-figure said once wild eyes laid upon his monstrously hilarious form. And again when Sawyer *pew pew*'d at the other apparitions, Agustin burst into more raucous guffaws... Edited by Cid, Wednesday, 15. January 2014, 20:53.
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| Chrissie Johnson | Thursday, 16. January 2014, 17:36 Post #23 |
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A life of Music
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The music started out as barely noticeable. Its origin difficult to pin point as the sounds seemed to be echoing off the walls, filling the area with the metallic resonance. It was dancing, almost as if taunting, around the room until a shadow could be picked out, sitting in the corner in the darkness. Legs crossed, back against the wall. Her head lowered so to be hidden behind the dark brown hair that was hanging down while her hands manipulated the guitar laying across her lap. She said nothing. Didn't move besides the dance of fingers across the strings. Just played as if lost in her own little world. Blue jeans, black top, black combat boots which soles had been replaced several times over. A worn leather jacket laying in a heap on the floor besides her. But, her face remained hidden. Her identity seemingly secondary to the music that kept flowing from the steel string guitar. |
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| Cid | Saturday, 18. January 2014, 01:10 Post #24 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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He liked the music. Very much so. Agustin stopped laughing and began to sway back and forth. The pleasant plucking of strings calmed the Malkavian. Heterochrome eyes closed and one foot tapped along. Though he noticed the shadows of apparitions in his peripheries, he thought not again to look upon them. If this beautiful tune emanated from his own headspace, or somewhere else even, he had no desire to reject it. Was this something to do with cowboys? If so, it was friggin' awesome. A grin crossed his features as the guitar playing ended. "Lovely." He complimented the hallucination. The room he was in now was on the second floor. Nearly pitch black, a single window boarded and covered on the outside with ivy. He reached for his backpack and pulled out his phone again. It needed a good charge soon. The faint glow of the power led being a small source of light. He used it to search his pack, sure he had procured a flashlight earlier. Even with the keen senses of Auspex, it was terribly dark in there. "Now if you don't mind, I've this haven to attend to. If you could stop trying to mess with me, at least, I would greatly appreciate." Said to none in particular as he organized his few possessions within the grey pack. Of course, they wouldn't listen to him... Edited by Cid, Saturday, 18. January 2014, 01:26.
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| Lady Anne | Saturday, 18. January 2014, 13:13 Post #25 |
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Only exists in Agu's head.
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A long few seconds after Sawyer fired off his air shots Anne seems to fall out of mid-air, hitting the ground soundlessly. Why? Because she is a hallucination they don't make a thud when they fall. At least this one didn't. Anne stands up, then looks down at the spreading blood from the air shot wounds. She reaches out towards Augustin... she starts to speak to him, a desperate look in her eyes... Then without warning, the young witch bursts into flame, charring her dress and skin into cinders held together with bright orange veins of molten Anne. She screams as she is immolated... then she finally explodes into ashes and smoke. |
| English Latin Irish/Gaelic (Anne is a linguist who can speak dozens of languages. Other colors will be added as needed) | |
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| Cid | Sunday, 19. January 2014, 07:20 Post #26 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Agustin caught the movement in his periphery and quickly turned as Anne fell silently to the floor. The scene shocked the Malkavian. He stared in wide-eyed horror as blood pooled from gunshot wounds. The look in her eyes wrenched at his heart and her short attempt at words made him choke. He reached his own hands out to her, as she seemed to do for him. The explosion threw Agustin back a short distance and he hit the wall with a *thud*. Not with the actual force of a real explosion, of course. No, this was a hallucination through and through. He fell back, legs weak and breathing heavily. The young man gasped for air he did not need. "W-wh-why..?" He stuttered painfully. His eyes stung with smoke and ash, though they weren't real. His mind struggled to understand the vision. His body stopped reaching for air as the sun began to rise. He glanced toward the apparition of Sawyer, bloody hatred in his expression. Blood welled in his eyes as they closed. Eyelids shut and the vampire fell into cold lifeless sleep as day broke, a trickle of tears falling down his cheeks as darkness took him for the day. ((Thread is CLOSED until my next post)) Edited by Cid, Sunday, 19. January 2014, 07:28.
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| Cid | Sunday, 19. January 2014, 12:35 Post #27 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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((Welcome back, you beautiful hallucinations!)) Dusk broke again. Yet more time passed after. An hour or two, perhaps? Once more, Agustin arose. Cold and bitter. Red-brown crust formed a duo of lines down both of his pale cheeks, criss-crossing his mottled beard and meeting under his chin. Why the fuck did his head hurt like this? Not just his head, either. Everything seemed to ache. He stood with a bit of effort. Remembering, he was trying to do something in this empty house. This dark room. He didn't have enough blood to fuck around anymore. He felt about, smacking trash out of the way, until he found his backpack again. He reached inside for the third time? In nigh complete darkness, he finally found the flashlight. A smack, almost angry, pushing the switch, the light flickered on until it reached full strength. Moving the source of illumination around the otherwise empty room, Agustin took note of everything. A brown reading chair sat in one corner, cushions torn to bits and rusted springs jutting out. The corner opposite rested an acoustic guitar, strings missing and case tattered. In yet another corner was a picture frame, a child's artwork, a crudely drawn cowboy riding an even worse looking horse. The room smelled of dust as the young man, the only person present to his knowledge, moved around kicking clouds up in the process. A hint of char lingered in his nostrils. He choked on his breath... Why? Even though the batteries were as fresh as could be, the flashlight flickered. Cheap dollar store piece of shit. He needed more and better supplies. His mind was beginning to return to normal function as he tried to make sense of his environment. Making plans. He felt better by the moment, but he needed to feed now. And who knows when the visions would start anew? Slowly, concertedly, he walked toward the door leading into the upstairs hallway. Grabbing and turning the handle, the young man opened it. More light trickled into the rest of the house through certain half-covered windows. Good thing the room he had been in for the day was well enough covered to save him from the sun. A stroke of luck to tide him over. Hearing rustling and other noises, his wild eyes scanned the rooms downstairs. Hands rested on the top of the stair railing. Did he leave the door open..? Edited by Cid, Sunday, 19. January 2014, 12:48.
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| Chrissie Johnson | Thursday, 23. January 2014, 19:40 Post #28 |
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A life of Music
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The music started quietly at first, barely audible before growing in strength and that despite the fact that the fingers moving along the neck of the instrument were plucking at imaginary strings as the guitar well, it lacked strings now didn't it? Unlike the last time though, when the tune has been haunting, metallic even, this time it was... cheerful, silly, playful as it danced around and filled the downstairs room with something akin to joy and happiness. You know, at least that's what it pretended to do. Because as before, the figure playing it was partially obscured in the shadows, once more sitting on the floor with it's back against the wall. Dark top, blue jeans, worn combat boots and her features obscured by the dark hair hanging down into her face. It was weird though, you know, weirder than the fact that she was there in the first place, that on the floor around her, there was snow. Cold, crisp snow as if it had just fallen. A few snowflakes caught in her hair as well, and on her shoulders. Quietly settling even though the figure would nod her head to the beat of the music. A barely noticeable movement, but enough to ensure an onlooker that she wasn't completely dead. |
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| Mac | Thursday, 23. January 2014, 19:48 Post #29 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She stepped into the Cheery melody, voice raising to drift up with the music to reach Augustin. Calling him back from upstairs. “Slow Down, you move to fast You got to make the morning last. Just kicking down the cobble stones. Looking for fun and feelin' groovy.” Her voice was perfectly suited to this masculine style of singing, which was pretty much why she chose to stay in the classics at all times. He'd heard her in the streets the night she'd assaulted him, playing away on that old guitar she'd sported that night. Tonight someone else was on guitar, and she accompanied the girl while dancing around the room dressed in a thick, fur lined Parka. He'd seen her rack the night she'd let Dawid have a full feel, trying to distract him from his strange obsession with Aguirre. Who wasn't strangely obsessed with the Mouse? So, if he'd had a full view then... Why was she wearing a god damned Parka now, covering up those heavenly sculpted breasts framed so perfectly by tentacles? Her hair was piled atop her head in her usual dread bun, tied off with a white scarf patterned with small octopus sillouettes. Skin free of make up and cleanly glowing, radiant in that human fashion that spoke of sun loving day time soaks, forever denied to Kindred. Her arms were raised above her head, eyes closed as she lifted off bare feet to move about on her toes swaying back and forth. Where she stepped she melted Crissies snow, leaving tip toed foot prints as she waited for Augustin to come into view. When he did, she'd open those light brown eyes and ask as she sang, still dancing on silent foot steps. “Hello lamppost, What cha knowing?” |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Cid | Friday, 24. January 2014, 00:20 Post #30 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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The music drifting up to Agustin was a sound for sore ears. Light and cheery, it perked his spirit right up. This was a helluva lot better than most ways he woke up. Either to complete silence, some fucked-up nightmare, or worse a person stumbling too close to his resting place. He hummed and whistled along interchangeably, skipping down the stairs with a big grin growing. He noticed the shadowed figure up against the wall, snow building up on her, in his periphery. Letting it be, he kept his skipping pace down to three quarters of the stairs, where he promptly launched himself with both hands over the stair railing to land square on his feet in front of another apparition. Just a bit of a spin which needed to be corrected as he stood back up to straight posture. He met the vision of Mac decked out in a parka with a warm smile. He grabbed her by the hands and swung around dancing and swinging to the melody. The Lunatic sang along, picking up where the phantom left off. Simon and Garfunkel, not his favorite, but he knew the lyrics to this one by heart. A simple song, anyway. He knew a ton of songs by heart, could rattle 'em off like nothing, from Queen to 2Pac to Johnny Cash to a few instances of J-Pop even. His voice was relatively pleasant and carried the tune quite well. "I've come to watch your flowers growin'. Ain't cha got no rhymes for me? Doot-in' doo-doo, Feelin' groovy. I've got no deeds to do, No promises to keep. I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep. Let the morning time drop all its petals on me. Life, I love you, All is groovy." The song trailed off and ended with Agustin twirling around the room with Mac's apparition happily. He kinda lost himself in the moment, actually. Was never much of a heavy thinker early in the morning. But with that weirdness out of the way, he had a few questions. This was obviously another hallucination, otherwise he'd probably be stuck with a dagger by now. So, why was the woman dressed in that unflattering furhide coat getup? He saw her majestic chesticles the once before, in all their hentai-rific glory, albeit from a distance by the powers of Auspex... Hell, a nice view of those beauties would have made for an even better 'morning' for the young man. Even if it was on this Mongol half-nightmare of a woman. He even saw quite a bit of ass at the Christmas party, awkward as that was, so he pretty much knew what the amazon looked like underneath that outfit. He frowned a bit at the thought, gazing into those hazel eyes through his own heterochrome with an expression that bordered on fuck-buddy, slightly disappointed his visions weren't pornographic. For the most part... Edited by Cid, Friday, 24. January 2014, 16:20.
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| Janette Adler | Friday, 24. January 2014, 05:02 Post #31 |
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Dr. Crazy
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"Mr. Agustin? Pelayo?" Called a woman's voice. She came in through the front door, carefully stepping her heeled boots over and around the debris on the floor. She was dressed in a dark brown corduroy blazer over a cream-colored blouse and a long grey wool skirt. She looked around, blinking owlishly behind her glasses. She wandered throughout the first floor looking for him, following the sound of the singing. "Ah, there you are! Hello! I'm Dr. Adler. Janette Adler" she said. |
![]() "Some may never live, but the crazy never die." ~Hunter S. Thompson | |
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| Cid | Friday, 24. January 2014, 18:42 Post #32 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Then someone called the hallucinating Malkavian's name. 'Agustin', then 'Pelayo'. Who the fuck? Ooh! Looks like a woman... Business attire or something. He dropped the Mac vision in her fur parka back where she had been at first. Wherever the fuck that was, being a figment of his derangement... The younger Lunatic met the other with a beaming grin. She introduced herself as a doctor... "Hehehe... Doctor Adler, eh? Like, you gonna addle me with drugs or what?" He giggled at her. The implication of words, homophonic and whatnot. He was already in a decent mood, for better or worse. "Are you, like, my inner therapist or something? Gonna listen to my bullshit, then ask me 'how I feel about it? Y'know, yer kinda cute, doctor-lady! My madness has good taste, it seems..." He nodded as he rambled, giggling along. "Come now! Dance with me! Simon and Garfunkel is playing..." He gave her a boop on the nose and a low chuckle. "Feelin' groovy..." Edited by Cid, Saturday, 25. January 2014, 02:55.
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| Janette Adler | Sunday, 26. January 2014, 20:39 Post #33 |
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Dr. Crazy
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The good doctor said "Pelayo, its Janette. I am not in your mind. I am actually here." She tried to dodge the nose boop, unsuccessfully. She said "Listen, its time to come back now. Take my hand" How did she know to come here? Well, obviously she got a request for a house call. What other explanation could there be? I mean, it is not as if she was called here by some kind of voices or madness. That would be silly. |
![]() "Some may never live, but the crazy never die." ~Hunter S. Thompson | |
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| Cid | Sunday, 26. January 2014, 22:16 Post #34 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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"Whatever, Janette." The Lunatic replied with a roll of his mismatched eyes. Obviously, he didn't believe her. Who else would wander in here knowing his name, but another gods damned figment of his fractured mind? "And only my friends can call me by my middle name... And so far, you ain't a friend yet, Miss Addler!" He continued, almost taunting her. It was kinda fun to have the upper hand on one of these fucked-up hallucinations for once. "And where the fuck do you intend to take me? Back where now? I ain't goin' back to the states, if that's what you mean. Not just yet! I already made a few friends here, actually, which is hard enough. Thank you very much! Plus I found this awesome little house..." The excited young man spread his arms out as if to indicate their surroundings. A somewhat dilapidated, yet secure, two-story brick structure. Pretty nice find, actually. Only problem now in his mind was making it his own and keeping it. He came back in for another boop on the nose. Swift and accurate. It might have been impressive if it wasn't such an adorkable thing to do, in the first place. "So no! You take my hands and we can dance for a little while. But then I'ma need to find some dogs or something. Need to feed soon, Doc." He stepped closer toward her, hands out to meet hers, the dried tears of blood still evident on his cheeks. |
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| Mac | Monday, 27. January 2014, 01:06 Post #35 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She danced with Augustin as he danced around, singing the rest of the song in tune with him to the rhythm of Crissies stringless guitar. Bare toes silent as always against the old, derelict flooring of the abandoned house. When he let her go, she spun away with her arms out side, laughing. She had a funny laugh, not the kind you'd expect from a psycho stabber as Augustin knew her. The laugh was immature and child like, hitching and rolling. When Janette came into the house, she slipped into a soft 'Lalalala" as if she was acting like background music to Janette's words. She tip toed away, to move to stand next to Crissie. She swayed back and forth, hands lifting up to sway in the air as a lazy and soft expression made her look like some sort of hippy love child at Wood stock, still up on her tip toes as she towered ignored in the corner. "Dogs are disgusting. You're a vampire, act like one." She wasn't a hippy love child anymore, she was Mac as he'd seen her in the streets that day with Aguirre. Ripped jeans, black tank top, sleek arms defined and muscled in a way that many men would only dream of. Cool hazel eyes fixed on him with an expression of dislike now. Where had the hippy kid gone? She'd seemed a lot less menacing... Especially as she stomped silently to walk behind Janette and leaned in to sniff her. "Ugh. A Doctor? No one likes a Doctor... Make her leave, she's ruining the Kumbaya." |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Lynx | Monday, 27. January 2014, 01:13 Post #36 |
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Lord Torchwood
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Background music seemed to roll down from upstairs. The sounds of marching feet thumping up above. A voice that sounds familiar but not one he knows all well seems to be chanting something at the top of his lungs to the music. |
color code 00CC00 #BC8F8F: Japanese ![]() “if you consider a woman less pure after you've touched her maybe you should take a look at your hands” Permanent Fangs - Flaw Sharpened teeth from fangs back - Frenzy Mark | |
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| Janette Adler | Tuesday, 28. January 2014, 12:28 Post #37 |
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Dr. Crazy
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Dr. Adler cleared her throat. "Well, Agustin. You can't feed on figments of your imagination. That is what all these are." She waved her hand about. "It's all in your file. Now, you are not hallucinating me, I assure you. I think it might be of interest to look into why your hallucinating, but that can wait I suppose." Janette slid her glasses back up to their proper perch on her nose. Then she said "Now, why don't you come with me outside the house. See if that doesn't do the trick." The good doctor took out her micro-cassette recorder and waited to see what Agustin would do. Edited by Janette Adler, Wednesday, 29. January 2014, 03:54.
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![]() "Some may never live, but the crazy never die." ~Hunter S. Thompson | |
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| Chrissie Johnson | Tuesday, 28. January 2014, 13:29 Post #38 |
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A life of Music
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With another piece of music starting, the first faded and the girl with the guitar grew quiet and still as the snow around her slowly saturated with a crimson colour that was washed away as both she and the snow faded into shadows and disappeared. |
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| Cid | Wednesday, 29. January 2014, 03:19 Post #39 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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A scowl emerged on the Malkavian's face as the music seemed to change around him. Was he being taunted now? Take him away?! He wasn't a fucking child to be taken anywhere like that. This 'doctor' was beginning to bring a change to his mood. Unwelcome. Some choice words were still in store before he would follow directions from a gods damned stranger. His gaze shifted to the Mac apparition and with a glare he shouted. "Shut up, you fucking... apple product! Steve Jobs was a cunt, and that explains where you get it from!" A smirk replaced the scowl as he lazily, yet with certain force of confidence, pointed at that hell-bitch in all her stabby-stabby demeanor. Then back to the intruder claiming a more substantial existence. "I'll feed on what I please! Unless you think you can stop me, eh?" He said to both of these figments. He leaned in toward the doctor, smirk growing into a grin. "And I don't have a fucking file, Doctor Addler. I've never been arrested. I haven't been to a fucking hospital since I was twelve, and certainly not to a psychiatrist! Of any kind." Arms were crossed as he grilled the good doctor. Again, he stepped closer. Close enough to smell her. He didn't, though. "Why should I leave this place, at your behest? What would that accomplish? You fuckers are a product of my own mind. I know that much, for certain. Not this derelict fuck building. What effect would this empty fuck house possibly have on my mental state, as it were? Eh, Doctor?" Said with forceful energy, animosity burning into a larger flame. He was a confused, yet somehow calm, angry Lunatic. More so by the moment. He was twitching, just a little, as he spoke. |
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| Janette Adler | Wednesday, 29. January 2014, 04:10 Post #40 |
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Dr. Crazy
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Dr. Adler blinked owlishly behind her glasses as Agustin reacted to her. She scratched her temple a bit. Then she said. "Well, of course you have a file. Otherwise, how could I possibly know who you are, and where to find you?" Then she said "I'm only trying to help. This is the second night you've been in this house hallucinating. How long would you like to keep this up? I can come back later if you want to continue being led by the nose by your illness rather then taking charge of it." Janette started dictating into her micro-cassette recorder "Subject: Agustin, Matias P. 12/24/1990. Upon making initial contact with subject, he is convinced that this practitioner is another of the reported A/V hallucinations. Subject is confrontational, displays denial of symptoms and is resistant to suggested interventions. Subject does appear to be Ox3 despite presenting symptoms. This practitioner has been unable to foster an effective clinical relationship thus far..." |
![]() "Some may never live, but the crazy never die." ~Hunter S. Thompson | |
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3:14 PM Jul 11