DAY EIGHT (morning)

[judgejudy]

DAY 8 (morning) Complex Population: 19 It's 8AM, and you wake from that deep, dreamless sleep that enforces curfew as always. Of course, some of you might be waking up due to a rather alarming reason. — NOTE: This day post will be run slightly differently because of the large amount of things to be discovered. Please indicate where your character is in the subject line of your toplevel, and a mod will reply to conduct the investigation. Please note that some areas may be dangerous, and your characters may be injured, but characters will not be killed (unless you want them to be). This post is for the second day as defined in the schedule. This post is for investigation and general mingling before the trial that takes place in the afternoon IC. ic rulebook character statuses character profiles private conversations graveyard

Comments

[jackhole]

[ HE DIDN'T WANT THIS.

his heart rate is going to pick up as he sees her, lurching back a little when she tries to touch the gash on him. he should probably let her check it but he's feeling a bit too frazzled about all this that he doesn't really want anyone, uh, touching him.

he gives a hiss at the stinging sensation of the wound and winces. ]

Woke up like this, not sure where it's from. Someone was busy last night, I guess. Did you see all that -- all that smoke? God.

[ he's babbling, he realizes and he gives a shake of his head. ]

I need to go get my first aid kit. I saw one when, when they popped up and I got one but it's not enough for all this and I. [ am still babbling, he realizes and groans. ] What's that on your neck?

[injectors]

[Yeah, no. Ease that heart rate a little, Rhys, because the intermittent shocks will get the slightest bit stronger as he lurches back. This is about the only time she'll be thankful for her father electrocuting her whenever his anger spiked — but that's not important. She's smart enough to take a hint when she sees one, and allows him his personal space.]

I did. The smoke and the fire, both. Seems like someone tried their hand at mass arson overnight.

[She could joke about it, really. Setting five out of eight apartments on fire is just excessive, but. Dickson is dead. There is a collar on her neck. She feel like her airway is being constricted. It's far too much in far too little time.]

It's— It's a collar. Same as yours, I believe. [Her throat feels funny and she's trying to swallow around the lump stuck in it. It's not working.] ... It may have been crafted from the monitors taken by the staff. Or constructed similarly, at the very least. I've received several shocks since I woke up. I presume... it's the same for you.

[But. She shakes her head, digging her nails into the palms of her hands in an attempt not to freak out over having yet another collar around her neck. Her prison is getting smaller, and smaller and this is the last thing she needs.]

But first is first. I have another first aid kit in my apartment. We can share supplies and — fix you up. We can't risk an infection.