I was wondering, would I still be able to join? If not, that's okay!
And are the doctors dancing in, while the ambulances sing. Another boy without a sharper knife. The moment, that's where I kill the conversation, wrap this up with a knife that loves to feel. How do you know how deep to go before it's real? - Yeah Boy And Doll Face ~ Pierce The Veil
1. The wilderness can be whatever it is the first posters say it is. I'm imagining it split between forests and deserts and jungles, but really, I don't really care. The point is for everyone to have pretty much complete freedom in this.
2. They'd implanted chips on several spots below your skin, though you don't know about it. Also, there are cameras around, but you can't see or find them. (I know, a little out there, but this is an SB; so sue me.)
"Blah blah blah. You feel trapped in your life. Here is what I am hearing: happiness isn't worth any inconvenience."
Personality: Danyel is soft spoken, and doesn't like socializing. Sometimes is afraid to speak up, or follow her instincts. She is independent, although when around a good friend she follows their lead.
History: She grew up in the heart of New York City, but spend many summers at her cousin's house in Maine, where her uncle taught her to hunt, as well as other outdoor activities. She was home schooled for a short time, up until her mother died when she was 10. Her father put her in a public school, and she had a difficult time making friends.
Skills: Good with animals, and wildlife, has a “green thumb” and is good at hunting with guns or a bow, as well as many outdoor skills. Danny is a fast runner, and naturally athletic if she has to be.
Weaknesses: Gets nervous, and she almost freezes and doesn't do anything about her situation. Not strong, and has weak muscles in her arms especially.
Weapon: Slingshot ( Really couldn't think of something, : )
Survival Tool: A box of matches.
Up For Love: Sure
Other: Her clothing consists of dark skin-tight jeans with a yellow tank top, and a black “Flyleaf” hoodie. She has a worn down pair of Vans on, and her fair blond hair is put up loosely in a bun, with strands hanging in the front.
And are the doctors dancing in, while the ambulances sing. Another boy without a sharper knife. The moment, that's where I kill the conversation, wrap this up with a knife that loves to feel. How do you know how deep to go before it's real? - Yeah Boy And Doll Face ~ Pierce The Veil
The first thing that came into focus was some crummy neon lights encased in dirty concrete. Groggily I moaned and twisted my aching body to try and get a better view of my surroundings. Another thing that struck me was the overwhelming silence. There was always something, a faint hum of some-sort that lays over the world like a net of sound. Great I thought to myself The powers out.
Still groaning from the pain in my bones I got up off of the plastic table and took in the dark moldy interior of the concrete hovel. There were several of the feeble plastic tables, some of which were stained with food you wouldn't serve to you worst enemy. Taking that and the bars on the windows, I assumed I was in a prison.
I sighed and leaned back down against the table. Something hard and cold poked into the small of my back, and with a grunt and a twist I pulled it out from underneath me. My fingers wrapped around the small gun, it appeared to be a revolver. I checked the eight metal slots for signs of ammunition, and found that five bullets were loaded. I also found a pair of flints in a small pouch, and silently wondering where they came from, I placed them into my jean's pockets.
That's when I heard the foot steps. I whipped my gun out and aimed along the top of it the way I had learned from Call of Duty. I felt my breath cut short as the person rounded the corner of the cafeteria hallway. Could be anyone!
With friends and courage one can stand against all foes, for neither man nor God can conquer those who are not alone
"109 in the sky but the pigs won't quit"
GLBTit doesn't matterone thing doesn't change who we are
Um, Camu, I don't own this SB, so I really wasn't giving the go-ahead. I was just sorta making a suggestion that sounded more like a command. Sorry, ultraviolet!
I open my eyes groggily. I see a boy groaning and trying to stand up. That's when I realize that I have no idea where the hell I am. I blink rapidly, and look around. It looks like a decrepit school cafeteria, but for the random links of handcuffs that are chained to many of the tables. I shiver, feeling the chill of the place seeping into my bones. The boy I had noticed earlier has gotten up, but he stumbles, and trips over me.
"Focus," he mumbles, putting his hands on his head.
"What?" I ask, puzzled.
"I must be dreaming or something," he mutters to himself, ignoring me.
"Umm, sorry to tell you this mate, but I don't think so," I say, smiling sadly. I reach over to pat him on the back, and realize that my hand had been curled around the hilt of a sword that is lying next to me, still in its scabbard.
And remember...A portkey can be any sort of harmless object...A football...or a dolphin. ~Snape, AVPM
"You are the egg, you are the chrysalis, you are the progeny. You are the rot that falls from stars." ~Will Henry, on Typhoeus magnificum
I groaned and rolled over. I didn't want to get up today, maybe it was one of those days when I was meant to stay in bed all day and not worry about anything. Unfortunately I couldn't, I had an appointment with my doctor today. I went to pull my pillow over my head, but to my dismay it wasn't with me. In fact I wasn't in my bed at all. The ground was hard and cold against my skin, and the faint smell of... well I wasn't sure what that smell was. It wasn't a good smell that was certain.
I opened my eyes slowly and began pushing myself up with one arm, then discovered something under my other hand. A gun. I yelped and sprang away from it. When I saw the rest of the room my heart began beating faster then I thought natural for a scared person.
Did my parents finally stick me in a mental home? No, they wouldn't. I was getting better with my frequent panic attacks. This certainly wasn't helping. I dropped to my knees and scrambled for the gun before curling up in the corner and cocking it. If anything came into the room, it would get shot.
I felt my hands trembling and my breath soon left me. My body shook right to it's core, and I gasped for air. I felt like I was trapped five feet underwater in the middle of winter.
"Even in the end --even in death-- I can't hate you." - Neri Hereford's last words.
"The Gods demand blood, for they... do not bleed." Jaska.
Something felt wrong. Before I even opened my eyes, I just knew that something was wrong. Maybe it was the lack of a comfy mattress or soft pillows that tipped me off, or it might just have easily been the feel of stiff jeans against my flesh. So. I wasn't in my bed clothes and I certainly wasn't in my bed. What next? I cautiously opened my eyes an groaned at the dul pain hanging just behind them. Ouch. Oh yeah, this was going to be a fun day.
The room looked like my school cafetria, almost. The same sort of design but not te same room. Smaller and more empty than mine would ever be. Okay then. Some sort of school. I noticed the others then, some still laying as if asleep and others starting to stir like myself. I slowly sat up and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. I reached for my mobile and was only vaguely surprised to find it not there. Was I dreaming? The pain at the back of my eyes said no, but what other answer was there?
"Someone want to tell me what the hell's going on?" I called out, my voice loud and distinctly grumpy. I was not a morning person at the best of times. Then I saw the items. I blinked a few times before reaching over to touch the very solid wod of a crosbow. Like in the video games, neat. But what was it doing here? I picked it up cautiouly and then the belt of bolts as well. Okay. Maybe this was some crazy Battle of Royale shit. Now that would really stink. It was best to put the belt on and keep hold of the crossbow just in case so I did just that and wondereed what the bottle hanging from the pouch of the belt was for. It was labelled water treatment. Huh. The stuff my dad used to bring on camping trips, weird.
Cheat your landlord if you can and must, but do not try to shortchange the Muse. It cannot be done. You can’t fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. — William S. Burroughs
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