WEEK 1

[bathymetric]

Well, you've now met the brains of the operation, as well as the shockingly nice-looking young lady in charge of day-to-day business. Now all that's left is to get used to your accommodations - there's 24 other people in similar shoes to yours to meet in this building, you know! And who knows how much longer you might have them...

The daily routine in the facility quickly becomes obvious - the only way to tell time moment to moment is to check the strange device The Professor gave you, but at the same time every day the lights in and out of the facility go up, and at the same time every night they go down. Otherwise, it's almost maddening sometimes, how little happens in here. At least you have a few rooms with enough to hopefully keep you occupied. Who knows what secrets they might hold? And there's always that vending machine, if you can find something that fits in the coin slot...





MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY
FRIDAY | SATURDAY

[ ooc: Welcome to Peace Week! Enjoy it while it lasts. Remember, office hours for The Professor's Assistant are over here if you're interested, while regains can be deposited over here! ]

Comments

[bolderfell]

...Nothing.

[He says, shifting his butt onto the floor so he can plant both feet against the machine and push, obviously trying (and failing) to get his hand out.]

[onefuture]

[Nothing his bony blue ass. Lif's just going to be talking a walk right over to access the situation at hand (hah) and...wow, you sure got your hand stuck in that machine. That's...honestly impressive.]

How did you get your hand stuck up in there? [Like. What the fuck, do the machines just eat hands now? ...No, that's illogical--] Do you need help?

[...He's not sure exactly how caught Therion's hand is at the moment, but like, he's trying to think of a plan of attack here.]

[bolderfell]

What I need--is a file--or a really sharp axe.

[He is dying and embarrassed. He stops for the moment, resting his face on the back of his other, less-stuck hand so that he doesn't have to look at Lif, and then twists around onto his back in hopes of getting a better angle of sight.]

If you really want to make yourself useful, though, would you mind holding that... flap thing all the way open for me? Be easier if I could see.

[onefuture]

[...On one hand he could understand the need for an axe in this situation to force the machine open (one way or another he supposes???) but god, there's nothing about this situation that's good.

He's not really obligated to help, but y'know what. Better him than some of the others.]

Sure, let me get that open for you.

[Lif will at least nod his head and crouch on down to get that flap open, though--it's a little difficult, but he's got it all the way open for you, dude. Good luck, Therion!!]

[bolderfell]

[He will gan all the batte he has. Thanks to the clearer view, Therion's able to maneuver one edge, then the other, between the top and bottom of the opening. Then, practically holding his breath, he wriggles his arm, easing it this way and that, until finally--

SKRRP!

He manages to pull his hand free. Now, the reason he got stuck is patently obvious: there's a metal shackle locked around his wrist. That's what must have been scraping across the sides, too.

Therion sits back up and scoots away, hiding his cuffed hand under his cloak and tucking his face into his scarf.]

...Thanks.

[onefuture]

[Lif watches carefully as Therion wriggles his way out--it seems he's got this mostly under control, and once he's able to pull his hand free, Lif's more than prepared to go...

But well, that metal shackle is rather obvious looking. Lif only sees it briefly, but considering how fast Therion goes to hide it, it's likely something that he doesn't want anyone to see. Which he supposes could make sense; it's likely something that he's ashamed of, perhaps.

Even so, Lif nods his head and gets up from the ground.]

Don't mention it. This machine could prove useful to us, and the last thing we need is someone to be missing a hand.

[...]

I'd advise against using that arm for any further searching in tight crevices. It's only going to cause problems for you.

[Lif isn't concerned in the slightest, what are you talking about. This is perfectly pragmatic.]

[bolderfell]

[Lif isn't concerned and Therion isn't humiliated. Only chill is happening here. By now, fully half of his face is now buried in that scarf.]

I know.

[This moment is almost as mortifying as when he got the stupid bangle in the first place.]

I just forgot. And I figured something important had to be inside. There's a whole room just for this thing.

[onefuture]

[Lif will take a closer look at the machine while Therion talks, mostly to try and get a better idea of it--there's so much going on here that it's a little overwhelming, but he comes across the slot, and...]

You might be onto something. Look up here--it looks as if something can be stuck inside of this. [...Something stuck inside that isn't Therion's arm, at any rate!] Perhaps that's how this device works?

[bolderfell]

...I saw that, too. It reminds me of a keyhole.

[He brushes his knees off and stands to join him in his observations.]

But I don't have anything that would fit. And here, this one... [He points to the place bills would go in without quite touching it. You have his wary respect, arm-eating machine.] I tried the card thing that unlocks the bedroom doors, but it won't go in.

[onefuture]

[Is that so...hm. Lif gives it a close inspection, but he can't exactly make out what's supposed to go in there. What's this world's currency made out of, paper???]

Perhaps we'll simply have to seek out a key, to see what's within this machine.

But I do admit...it almost looks as if you could stick some gold in there. It's about the perfect size.

[bolderfell]

[Therion's head tilts a bit until he realizes what Lif means.]

A coin, you mean?

[He holds his chin and closes his eyes, imagining the inside of the slot.]

...Yeah, I suppose. It'd have to be the right size. Depending on what the mechanism inside is, it might have to be the right weight, too. Or it might be engraved with a design that would match grooves inside the machine, to ensure the right kind of coin is being used...

[He catches himself, glances at Lif, and shrugs, ducking down into his scarf like that's his end punctuation.]