Davesprite (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mrcreamsicles) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2016-12-19 12:59 am
mrcreamsicles) wrote in snowblindrpg2016-12-19 12:59 am
Entry tags:
[log] don't try this at home, kids [closed]
Characters: Davesprite & House
Location: Buildings 105, 109, 123 (the vet's office), and 106.
Date: Days 188 & 189.
Summary: Two depressed dudes quest together for ill-advised experiments.
Warnings: Existential issues aplenty, mild body horror courtesy of weird sprite anatomy, dangerous medical experiments.
105: A standard single-story house with a kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, and two bedrooms. One bedroom has been converted into an amateur photography dark room, and while most of the equipment and chemicals are gone, it's still pitch black with no windows. The dining room has chair debris all over the place and a scratched up wall, as if someone was smashing something against it. Upon closer examination, two legs are missing from the chair debris.
109: A standard single-story house with a kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, and bedroom. The house is empty, though; it seems like no one was living here even when the town was populated. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, STEPHANIE BROWN, EDWARD ELRIC, GREED, DAY SIXTY-ONE, TRAVELLING WEST" is written on the wall, alongside "DEAR FORMER RESIDENT, WE ARE FRIENDS, PLEASE DO NOT FEEL YOU NEED TO HIDE FROM US. CONTACT LELRIC." The following is written on the dining room floor in morse code: Duster, Day 124, Gwen, Melengar, Ratibor, Blackwater, brideeth. Beneath that, also in morse code, is "House annoying. Incredibly annoying."
123: A quiet veterinarian's office. The power no longer works here, and it's so quiet your footsteps echo on the floor, but it's very clean inside and smells faintly of disinfectant, as if it was only just cleaned. There's a waiting room with a few benches and a reception desk in the center, as well as two public restrooms off to one side, one for men and one for women. There are three small examination rooms; the first one has a dog mural, the second a cat mural, and the third many different sorts of animals all together. Pass down the hall beyond that and through the employees only area and you'll reach a main area with various shelves--maybe you can find some medicine here, though it would be for animals. There's a surgery room with two gleaming, perfectly clean metal tables, although all of the expected machinery is missing. There's a small kennel and a quarantine area, as well as an office for the vet that has a desk and chair but no paperwork. In the back there's a freezer; you can look inside through a small window, but it's very dark. There are black bags inside--this is where they keep the bodies of animals. Sometimes you can see the outline of them, if one has died recently. There is a message scratched into the wall next to the front door, reading "T. HAMADA, DAY 04, WEST".
The atmosphere only grows more suffocating here the longer you stay; if you try to stay too long (longer than one OOC day), you'll be forced to leave. Similarly, at 7PM, you will be forced to leave and not allowed to take shelter here.
106: Only the living room remains intact in this house. It seems like it still receives water, though, because there are ice stalagmites on the floor that increase drip by drip nightly, when the ceiling begins to leak and drip. "SHEENA FUJIBAYASHI AND ZELOS WILDER, DAY 63, TRAVELING NORTH-WEST" has been carved into one of the walls.
Location: Buildings 105, 109, 123 (the vet's office), and 106.
Date: Days 188 & 189.
Summary: Two depressed dudes quest together for ill-advised experiments.
Warnings: Existential issues aplenty, mild body horror courtesy of weird sprite anatomy, dangerous medical experiments.
105: A standard single-story house with a kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, and two bedrooms. One bedroom has been converted into an amateur photography dark room, and while most of the equipment and chemicals are gone, it's still pitch black with no windows. The dining room has chair debris all over the place and a scratched up wall, as if someone was smashing something against it. Upon closer examination, two legs are missing from the chair debris.
109: A standard single-story house with a kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, and bedroom. The house is empty, though; it seems like no one was living here even when the town was populated. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, STEPHANIE BROWN, EDWARD ELRIC, GREED, DAY SIXTY-ONE, TRAVELLING WEST" is written on the wall, alongside "DEAR FORMER RESIDENT, WE ARE FRIENDS, PLEASE DO NOT FEEL YOU NEED TO HIDE FROM US. CONTACT LELRIC." The following is written on the dining room floor in morse code: Duster, Day 124, Gwen, Melengar, Ratibor, Blackwater, brideeth. Beneath that, also in morse code, is "House annoying. Incredibly annoying."
123: A quiet veterinarian's office. The power no longer works here, and it's so quiet your footsteps echo on the floor, but it's very clean inside and smells faintly of disinfectant, as if it was only just cleaned. There's a waiting room with a few benches and a reception desk in the center, as well as two public restrooms off to one side, one for men and one for women. There are three small examination rooms; the first one has a dog mural, the second a cat mural, and the third many different sorts of animals all together. Pass down the hall beyond that and through the employees only area and you'll reach a main area with various shelves--maybe you can find some medicine here, though it would be for animals. There's a surgery room with two gleaming, perfectly clean metal tables, although all of the expected machinery is missing. There's a small kennel and a quarantine area, as well as an office for the vet that has a desk and chair but no paperwork. In the back there's a freezer; you can look inside through a small window, but it's very dark. There are black bags inside--this is where they keep the bodies of animals. Sometimes you can see the outline of them, if one has died recently. There is a message scratched into the wall next to the front door, reading "T. HAMADA, DAY 04, WEST".
The atmosphere only grows more suffocating here the longer you stay; if you try to stay too long (longer than one OOC day), you'll be forced to leave. Similarly, at 7PM, you will be forced to leave and not allowed to take shelter here.
106: Only the living room remains intact in this house. It seems like it still receives water, though, because there are ice stalagmites on the floor that increase drip by drip nightly, when the ceiling begins to leak and drip. "SHEENA FUJIBAYASHI AND ZELOS WILDER, DAY 63, TRAVELING NORTH-WEST" has been carved into one of the walls.
gonna reinforce that warning for squicky sprite anatomy weirdness
[He doesn't answer House verbally, and there is a fiddly hesitancy to his hands as he figures out how he wants to hold the rubble packet and orient it with his sword hole. But there's only so much he can put things off. Finally, after a breath and one more glance to check the camera, he starts to push in the tape bundle.]
[And it goes in. It's not as smooth or easy as if it were something totally inflexible, but Davesprite lets out a breath of a laugh before he can catch himself.]
It's doing it! Dude, House, look!
[He swats for his arm, as if House's attention could be anywhere but what's happening.]
No pain, no resistance— [Another glance at his tablet.] No distortion, either. I'm the real deal!
[He keeps going if not stopped, nudging the rest of the bundle in bit by bit until just the end (still held firmly between his fingers) is visible.]
no subject
Don't touch me, kid. [The command is huffed, as he immediately knocks Davesprite's hand aside.] Don't shove it in too deep. Pull it out and see how you're feeling after that.
no subject
Nah, man, don't worry, it goes all the way through. I'm not shoving it into the depths of the unknown. There's no mystery void all locked up inside my chest parts.
[But without taking his coat off and probably fiddling with the tweezers, this is still the easier way. So he pulls it back out, just as slow and methodical as he was with it going in, until it's entirely removed.]
Bam. Totally normal. No pain, no weird tingling, just empty sword space.
[He reaches over to stop the recording.]
no subject
Do you have a heartbeat as a sprite? Do you normally have a heartbeat. I wouldn't ask since you clearly have blood pumping in your veins, but is yellow and there's a freaking hole through your chest. How the hell to I know what's 'normal anatomy' for you?
no subject
[He shrugs, then dumps the little tape rope back in the bucket he'd stored the nails and screws in. He has no further use for it but he has no better idea of where to put it just yet.]
But yeah, I've got a heartbeat. Crows do, humans do. You want to know the real mystery? I got no idea what my tail's made of. You think it's just a big tube of muscles?
no subject
Mind if I take a listen? I'd offer to figure out what your tail is, but feeling up some rando kid might come off bad for me.
no subject
Go ahead, doc. I want to know if it's got a sweet bass rhythm.
no subject
Hmm.
no subject
So what's the diagnosis? Can I rap to it?
no subject
[He pulls out the buds and offers them to Davesprite, then taps his own chest. You can compare it to mine.]
no subject
[He is going to spend the rest of the night beatboxing to it and mumbling to himself as he works out the lyrics to a stupid, misinformed medical rap. You're welcome, House.]