Clayton Epps (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dr_unconscious) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2015-06-12 03:58 pm
dr_unconscious) wrote in snowblindrpg2015-06-12 03:58 pm
Entry tags:
- *network,
- *open,
- alphonse elric (fullmetal alchemist),
- america (hetalia),
- apollo justice (ace attorney),
- clayton epps (original),
- clementine (the walking dead),
- greed (fullmetal alchemist 2003),
- lancer (fate/stay night),
- lone wanderer (fallout),
- stephanie brown (dc),
- stiles stilinski (teen wolf),
- tim drake (dc),
- tim wright (marble hornets),
- yuuri suzuki (red river),
- zelda (loz:oot)
[network] @claytonator; Exploring; Day 004 [open] [eventual death by exposure]
[late afternoon - video/text]
[The post starts off as a live, shot-by-shot documentation of the area Clayton has decided to explore. He's on his way to the mysterious dot of a building he saw from the balcony in house 88, where he first woke up; apart from house 83, which just happened to be close enough to scout, Clayton knows no other landmarks to look for. With what he assumes is most of the supplies he's willing to take salvaged from 88 and 83, and his makeshift shoes damp and falling apart, he decides that there's not much else to do except go for it and hope for the best.]
[For the entire morning, there's nothing to report. It's all snow. Clayton keeps himself occupied by checking other posts on the network, but otherwise he's silent.]
[By mid-afternoon, he runs into the graveyard.]
[This is worthy of some footage. Clayton posts two of them; the first is a short one, a panning around as he comes in through the front to show off the size and general state of things. His commentary is sparse--he's cold and tired and this place is kind of creepy.]
Found this...guess every town's gotta have one, eh? [He zooms in on a tombstone, here. It's unrecognizably worn.] Looks real old. If anybody died after whatever happened to drive 'em all out, I reckon they ain't buried 'em here.
[Some time later there is a much shorter video. No sound from Clayton, save his quick, somewhat labored breathing in the background as he slowly pans around him. A thick mist has settled in. He can't see it apart from on the video, but Clayton doesn't think to make a note of that before he ends it.]
[Much later, there are pictures. He's found a chapel of some sort--indeterminate Christian denomination, about as old as the graveyard, fairly small. There's a picture of the outside, followed by several more of the inside, the pews, the stained glass windows, the hall leading to the bed and bathrooms, and last, a stairwell down to a set of closed doors.]
[There isn't anything else for a bit longer after that. Then, a text post. No pictures. Something feels really wrong about posting public pictures of a dead guy, or a morgue in general.]
I found where they're keeping Klaus.
[after lockout - video]
[There's another long band of silence following Clayton's escape from the chapel. Driven out by the suffocatingly unpleasant atmosphere, he continued heading south in the hopes that there would be another side of town to explore beyond it.]
[By the time it gets dark, he has not located that side of town.]
[It's well past the time that Clayton's noted the doors on the houses lock, but he's still walking anyways. Maybe it's not all the houses? Maybe he'll find part of a house that offers enough shelter to sit in, but doesn't have a door? He can remain hopeful!]
[No such luck there, either. The wind is picking up and the strength is rapidly leaving his legs. He has to sit down. He'll freeze to death if he keeps himself exposed like this. A snowbank, maybe...]
[When Clayton decides to turn on the network for the last time, he's managed to dig out a shallow depression in the side of a small pile of snow, which is just enough to huddle within and give the illusion of shelter without actually doing anything to prevent the cutting bite of the cold. Clayton has jammed the tablet in the ice near his face so he can keep his hands tucked in his coat. He's resting his head, hair laden with frost, on his backpack, which smells irritatingly strongly of cat food. He doesn't look very comfortable.]
[But he is, as usual, smiling.]
Ah...sorry 'bout this. I know it's late. Ain't sure who's even up... [Clayton shakes his head.] ...Think I got kinda sidetracked. Gonna have to camp out tonight.
[He bites his lip through a grin. In his pajamas and a coat and some wet foam shoes, Clayton is pretty sure he knows how this is going to end. Doesn't mean he has to accept it, though.]
Could do with somebody to talk to, if y'all 'll humor me. Swaps stories, I dunno. Just...don't think I should be fallin' asleep right now.
[The post starts off as a live, shot-by-shot documentation of the area Clayton has decided to explore. He's on his way to the mysterious dot of a building he saw from the balcony in house 88, where he first woke up; apart from house 83, which just happened to be close enough to scout, Clayton knows no other landmarks to look for. With what he assumes is most of the supplies he's willing to take salvaged from 88 and 83, and his makeshift shoes damp and falling apart, he decides that there's not much else to do except go for it and hope for the best.]
[For the entire morning, there's nothing to report. It's all snow. Clayton keeps himself occupied by checking other posts on the network, but otherwise he's silent.]
[By mid-afternoon, he runs into the graveyard.]
[This is worthy of some footage. Clayton posts two of them; the first is a short one, a panning around as he comes in through the front to show off the size and general state of things. His commentary is sparse--he's cold and tired and this place is kind of creepy.]
Found this...guess every town's gotta have one, eh? [He zooms in on a tombstone, here. It's unrecognizably worn.] Looks real old. If anybody died after whatever happened to drive 'em all out, I reckon they ain't buried 'em here.
[Some time later there is a much shorter video. No sound from Clayton, save his quick, somewhat labored breathing in the background as he slowly pans around him. A thick mist has settled in. He can't see it apart from on the video, but Clayton doesn't think to make a note of that before he ends it.]
[Much later, there are pictures. He's found a chapel of some sort--indeterminate Christian denomination, about as old as the graveyard, fairly small. There's a picture of the outside, followed by several more of the inside, the pews, the stained glass windows, the hall leading to the bed and bathrooms, and last, a stairwell down to a set of closed doors.]
[There isn't anything else for a bit longer after that. Then, a text post. No pictures. Something feels really wrong about posting public pictures of a dead guy, or a morgue in general.]
I found where they're keeping Klaus.
[after lockout - video]
[There's another long band of silence following Clayton's escape from the chapel. Driven out by the suffocatingly unpleasant atmosphere, he continued heading south in the hopes that there would be another side of town to explore beyond it.]
[By the time it gets dark, he has not located that side of town.]
[It's well past the time that Clayton's noted the doors on the houses lock, but he's still walking anyways. Maybe it's not all the houses? Maybe he'll find part of a house that offers enough shelter to sit in, but doesn't have a door? He can remain hopeful!]
[No such luck there, either. The wind is picking up and the strength is rapidly leaving his legs. He has to sit down. He'll freeze to death if he keeps himself exposed like this. A snowbank, maybe...]
[When Clayton decides to turn on the network for the last time, he's managed to dig out a shallow depression in the side of a small pile of snow, which is just enough to huddle within and give the illusion of shelter without actually doing anything to prevent the cutting bite of the cold. Clayton has jammed the tablet in the ice near his face so he can keep his hands tucked in his coat. He's resting his head, hair laden with frost, on his backpack, which smells irritatingly strongly of cat food. He doesn't look very comfortable.]
[But he is, as usual, smiling.]
Ah...sorry 'bout this. I know it's late. Ain't sure who's even up... [Clayton shakes his head.] ...Think I got kinda sidetracked. Gonna have to camp out tonight.
[He bites his lip through a grin. In his pajamas and a coat and some wet foam shoes, Clayton is pretty sure he knows how this is going to end. Doesn't mean he has to accept it, though.]
Could do with somebody to talk to, if y'all 'll humor me. Swaps stories, I dunno. Just...don't think I should be fallin' asleep right now.
Page 1 of 6