Ινιθυις Ξασιβυς

[stringmods]

♠ ♣ A Game of Chance ♥ ♦

 

Who: Anyone
Where: Aramid Room
Summary: You enter the Dream World and are given a key. But will you use it? (Note that your character does NOT have to come to this log, the dream only happens for characters you want to come to the Aramid room)
When: Futuredated to the 13th
Warnings: Some characters may have terrible desires. It depends who is there, but this IS the Aramid Room.

That night, you find yourself falling asleep. It does not matter if you never sleep, somehow these things always find a way, if you wish to come here. The blackest pitch and the sound of nothingness is your companions for a few tense minutes; you can try screaming out, but nothing comes from your mouth. But when all seems truly lost...

The first thing you are aware of when rousing from your slumber is the distant, muffled music of a piano.

It coaxes you roughly back to the land of the living, and when you open your eyes - all you can see is a ceiling of pure red.

This is the Aramid Room - or rather, your own personal room within it. The room looks pretty lavish at a glance; pretty flowers, polished furniture, silky looking bed sheets... but when you look closer, you realize those flowers are fake, the furniture is of veneer, not actual wood, and the bed sheets are nylon. It is like a tacky love hotel - hell, even the bed is shaped like a massive heart, with black and red sheets.

Resting on the bedside dresser is a plain white mask, a bowl of apples which never seems to run out, no matter how many you eat, and a small red key. The mask has a little note underneath that says "Please wear when leaving for the lounge, thank you!". There is even a bell for room service beside it - or so you presume in any case, since this place is mimicking a hotel so closely...

As for entertainment, there isn't really much. Just a small television mounted up on the wall, and its remote resting beside you on the bed. If you try the television, all that is displayed is static, except for brief moments of clarity, where it seems just commercials would play - commercials that, strangely advertised for your deepest, darkest desire, no matter how fantastical or illegal it is...

But that's if you wish to stay in the room. You might want to explore, right? If that's the case, all you will have to do is don the white mask and leave. To your right, you will see rows of locked doors stretching infinitely down the hallway you entered into - no matter how long you walk, you'd find them all closed and impossible for you to get in. You could try knocking if you want, but who knows if someone else wants to answer. The stairs to the lower levl will be to your left.

Follow them, and enter the lounge beyond...

▼ OOC : Instructions

▶ Welcome to the Aramid Room. There are but a few instructions here:
▶ Create your posts and if you want others to knock on your door, leave it open. Otherwise, have fun creating the commercials tailored to your desires!
▶ The lower level post will be coming a little while later.
▶ You do not have to play out all the request ends or beginnings. In fact it's encouraged to just use the forms (reply this month for a request, reply the next month saying the request is done) and handwave. However, the mods will be happy to do a reply, if you wish!
▶ To get a new Persona, you go to [HERE] and pick a public persona, then fill out a request [HERE]. NOTE THE EXTRA RULES AT TAKING OUT A PERSONA IN THE ARAMID ROOM, THIS IS VERY IMPROTANT!! Remember, public personas only! You can request a Persona (or two if you are a previous Persona user).
▶ You can requests can only be given to Edgar this month [HERE] and remember you only get one request per month.
▶ You can interact with characters in the upper levels if you'd like, and go to each other's rooms, hang around, have a drink (what is in that drink anyway?) or just talk between yourselves.
▶ The masks makes it impossible to know who the other person is, unless they tell you their names. Even if they are un their underwear. Yes, you are allowed to use a fake name.

Comments

[OPEN] [trigger warning: drug use]

[frequent_flyer]

[Falling asleep, his thoughts were poisoned by memories of his life. Screaming at his parents, getting thrown out of the house, searching desperately for his next fix... He remembered the nausea and the chills so... vividly.]

[And the staring eyes of a dead body he once woke up next to.]

[He startled himself awake, losing his place in bed and falling out of it. Wait. This... wasn't where he'd fallen asleep. Was he still dreaming? He untangled his legs from the crimson blankets now half-strewn across the floor, standing up and fixing his clothing.]

[He observed each of the items on the table, taking interest in the key specifically. Maybe he'd played too many adventure RPGs when he was alive, because he immediately slipped the key into his coat pocket without a second thought. You never know when it could come in handy! And the mask... he looked at the accompanying note, figuring it couldn't hurt to put it on, so he did.]

[He sat back down on the bed, turning the TV on out of simple curiosity... only to see static. Ah well, it was worth a try. He picked up the bell, rolling it over in his hands before giving it a loud ring.]

[What's the worst that could happen? It's just a dream, right?]

[That's when the television started working, at least somewhat. The sound quality was grainy and the picture kept going in and out, but it was something.]

["And it's a pop fly to second! Gee, if he catches this one, that'll win the game, won't it, Daisuke?"]

[The screen flickered to an image of a dark room, several people cramped inside. One of them held a spoon over a lit candle, several pairs of eyes watching intently as the dark substance in the spoon melted into a liquid. The TV flickered back to the sports announcers after only a brief glance at the unsettling scene.]

["That's right, Eiji! If number four catches this one, that'll wrap it up for us here at Hanshin Koshien Stadium!]

[Oh. Oh. He stared at the screen, unblinking. The picture once again returning to the dark room. Someone with a filthy white dress shirt was rolling up his sleeve, tying a strip of rubber tightly around his upper-arm, feeling around the bend in his arm where veins were becoming more easy to find.]

["And he caught it! The crowd is going wild! Keep an eye on this team, folks, you might see their faces again in the big leagues!"]

[The dirty figure in the dark room was handed a syringe, trembling hands holding the needle to his arm. Fresh blood tainted the amber liquid in the syringe before he pressed at the plunger with his thumb, shuddering with relief as he emptied the contents into his bloodstream.]

[The picture snapped back to the stadium, zoomed in on the one who'd caught the ball, his team lifting him up in celebration, thanking him for their victory. He was player number 4, he had... blue hair.]

[It was him.]

[The reception failed as he saw his own overjoyed face torn in half by static, left with his stunned reflection on the glass of the TV screen.]

i'm late but i know you want to do something with this, so..!

[trainwrecking]

[ It should come as no surprise that Otonashi is simply not "deep, dark desire" kind of material. The idea of wearing the mask or using a fake name simply never occurs to him. Perhaps it would if he could still the heart pounding painfully in his chest (indeed, being alive means he must have this quality again) or the sharp breaths catching in his throat.

Whatever he witnessed on his own television was enough to startle him into seeking out one of the quieter rooms. Hearing noises of torture or wanton desire drive him away from the rooms. Should he go in and help? Should he find someone who knows what's going on?

Is there no safe place?

The familiar sound of baseball announcers from the TV within drives him to knock. Something safe, something normal, he thinks. He assumes, wrongfully, that maybe this room is functional ― and a break away ― from the apparent horrors of the rest of this twisted dream realm.

As out-of-sorts as he is, he won't barge in on this one. No, maybe if he heard screaming or cries for help on the other side, he might try. Instead, Otonashi frantically pounds on the door, the force enough to make his hand sore. ]

Is this a safe room..?! Something's wrong―! [ A very, very small part of him might also be expecting some kind of weird trap if he tries to open any doors, but that's minor in comparison to the rest of the terror eating away at him. ]

[frequent_flyer]

[He continues staring at the screen, which has long since crumpled into nonsensical static. He keeps waiting to wake up, to sit up in bed covered in cold sweat and shaking.]

[He waits, but it never comes.]

[He looks down at his hands, balled up into fists in his lap, his vision clouding over with frustrated tears.]

[If I'd only practiced more. If I was more talented. If I hadn't been such an idiot...]

[The pounding at the door snaps him out of his wallowing in self-pity, hopping up from the bed and heading for the door out of polite compulsion to answer it. However, his fingers hesitate upon meeting the handle.]

[Is this going to be another trick? Another nightmare?]

[The door slowly, slowly creaks open, and a figure with a mask peers around the edge as if he expects the world to crash down around him at any moment.]

Eh- [The door suddenly flies open, the masked boy staring at him, mouth agape.] O-Otonashi!?

[Why is he in my dream!?]

[trainwrecking]

[Due to the mask, Otonashi shows no inclination towards the strange, blue-haired and slightly nasally-voiced boy on the other end. Can he even pick up on those traits?]

A-are any of these rooms safe?! Some of them sound... b-busy or dangerous, I can't―! [He stops mid-sentence, pulling back. Wait―]

How... how do you know my name..?

[frequent_flyer]

...Busy? [Hinata has yet to leave his own room, so he hasn't heard the decidedly wanton sounds falling thickly against the walls of some of the other rooms. And honestly? That's probably for the best.]

[Considering that he thinks he's dreaming, Hinata thinks that Otonashi is asking some weird questions. One would think he'd show up in some absurd outfit asking Hinata to come play baseball or bake a cake or something equally inane. But... he seemed the same as ever, aside from not recognizing Hinata, of course.]

[That part of it stung. Maybe this was still a part of his nightmare.] B-because... we're friends. You really don't remember..?

[trainwrecking]

The... there are sounds coming from them! D-don't make me explain... [He would rather not think too hard about some of the obvious hardcore pornography-and-static coming from some of the rooms. To each their own, but what if some of it was real, not televised?]

Uh... Friend? I don't recognize you. Y-you're just another masked man here... [Otonashi swallows loudly.]

[frequent_flyer]

[Sounds? What is this? Some kind of love hotel?]

[Oh right, he woke up on a heart-shaped bed, didn't he?]

[Masked man..?] Oh... this?

[He reaches up, pulling the mask off his face. As if by some magic, it should become immediately obvious who it is.] I just found this on the table...

[trainwrecking]

[The image of a masked man unblurred in front of him, the undefined features warping to a familiar head of blue hair and soft lavender eyes. That characteristic gasp—the one that causes his voice to pitch up and his mouth to hang open long after he makes the sound—is indication enough.]

H-Hinata..?! This room is... yours? [Indeed, he has a million questions. This place is more confusing by the minute...]

[frequent_flyer]

[Hinata can't help but be a little... confused. Why did Otonashi look so stunned when he'd taken off the mask? Maybe superheroes were really onto something with this mask business.]

[He glances over his shoulder into the room that is... unabashedly supposed to look like it belongs in a love hotel.] I... I guess it is?

[Still slightly concerned that Otonashi has become a part of his love hotel dream, he clears his throat.] Ah... What are you doing... here?

[trainwrecking]

[Hinata might as well have asked, "Why are you in my space uninvited?"]

I... I'm sorry, i-it's not like that! I'm not trying to— I'm trying to find a safe space..! S-someone has to know what's going on! [He's backing away, his hands up defensively, flighty enough to be out of there in a moment's notice.]

Nnn, I shouldn't have touched anything... idiot!