Dreamspace - RP Topic

It had been a long time. For Basil, at least.

The stairs were wood, expertly constructed, and waxed with a fine polish. Which is a combination Basil had never walked on before in his life, and at the age of four it was a really horrible time to experiment wile wearing socks and almost hopping down each step.

So down he had gone, hitting his head and freefalling towards a likely fatal collision with the floor below. On almost the complete opposite end of the room, someone had noticed and broke into a sprint, colliding with - and through - the expensive and ornate railing, and slamming into the stair wall just in time to save him from his self-prescribed fate. That someone was his father.

After that Basil couldn’t remember many of the details. There was an awful fight, with lots of yelling and threats, and his family had to pay through the nose to avoid a lawsuit. His father never said a word to Basil on the topic, being characteristically stoic and gentle, for almost a full year since the incident occurred. When he did comment on it, is was a very soft-spoken reminder to grow from your failings and to never falter again, with some mentions of wisdom and smarts and other oft-repeated topics.

Now, however, was not the best time to reminisce on past guilt, but to try and stop from colliding with the concrete floor and smash your skull to smithereens. Sadly, Basil couldn’t really do too much in the blanket.

Miles was significantly closer, catching Basil perfectly upright, and possibly noting how light he was. A split second later, Jung bumped into him, not with enough force to disrupt his attempt, but just enough that Miles had the option to be annoyed if he so desired.

Basil creaked his head around to find himself facing a purple tie - not that he could tell what the color was since he was so close - and sharply pushed away, slipping out of Miles’ grip and slamming rather painfully into the hard concrete steps behind him. He looked up at Jung and Miles, who were in his mind almost hovering over him at this point, almost anticipating a strike from one of the pair, when his peripheral vision informed him of something truly horrible.

His hand was exposed.

Basil sucked it back into the mass of cloth, partially refusing to accept that everyone in the whole room had more than enough time to get a very good look at it, and ran a pair of frightened, questioning eyes from Miles to Jung and back again, hoping to the highest of heavens that he would wake up soon.

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Miles was incredible relieved to have caught Basil without hurting him, letting out a huge sigh before he got annoyingly bumped by Jung. He shot the other man an irritated look before turning back to the bat child that was now cowering on the floor.
“Hey, you’re fine, alright? We aren’t going to hurt you.”
The lawyer got up onto his knees before speaking again.
“Now, could you please show us where you’ve gotten hurt?”

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Good, he’s-

Jung was moving far too quickly to finish the sentence before he bumped into the lawyer. Said lawyer was quite irritated he had done that.

“My apologies, and good save.” Jung said in response

The poor child looked traumatized. Jung quickly realized he had every right to be though. He had seen strange beings, smelled horrid smells, and was trapped in a decrepit structure of some kind. Jung only felt pity for him.

The lawyer seemed plenty able to take care of the child, so Jung continued his way past them up the stairs

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Alexis breathed a sigh of relief and began making her way down the stairs, squeezing past the eyeball-headed-lady and the man with the sunglasses, all the while keep her eyes trained on the room they awoke in. Then she noticed it, the blood on the stairs in front of her, “He’s bleed-" She stopped before finishing her sentence, realizing that if the child heard her he would surely freak out and possibly make the injury worse.

Alexis gave miles a short wave, signaling that’d she’d be nearby in case he needed any assistance.

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That’s incredibly debatable.

Basil’s eyes continued to shift between the pair, unsure of what was about to occur. Floor man- well, perhaps it wasn’t really fair to call him ‘floor man’ anymore seeing as he had abandoned the floor he rested on a while ago. He wore sunglasses, so maybe he should be called sunglasses guy. Or shades guy. Or hoodie guy. He also had a hoodie.

Regardless, THAT fellow had advanced past him and up the stairs, and no wait come back he can’t face lawyer man alone and expect to survive his go through wall powers! How could you do this to him, sunglasses guy?!

Alexis had intended for this to be unheard, but with ears the size of Basil’s, nothing was hidden. If the room was any stiller, he would likely be able to hear Miles’ heart rate, but all he could hear in that moment were the words He’s Bleeding echoing inside his head over and over.

As soon as she cut herself off, Basil’s head moved slightly, indicating that, like it or not, he had heard the message. Whether her presence was a comfort or a concern not even Basil knew.

Oh no.

There was no way to run, no way to object without possibly hurting someone’s feelings, and no positive aspect about this. There was pain, sure, but no pain compared to having to reveal his appearance to these complete strangers; having a bleeding wound tended to by these absolute strangers. In the moldy musty stairwell underground at a completely unknown location. Please wake up.

And yet, he was there, standing on his knees… Waiting…

For Miles, Basil’s eyes broke away from contact and tried desperately to resume it, but could not find the willpower to do so. His hands traveled under the cloth, pulling away at the largest pile of wrinkles in the center and slowly splitting open a gap in the fabric.

For everyone else watching, there was a twinkling of light as the rays from the hazy bulb above refracted out of the shard of glass in Basil’s right shin. It was smeared about the base of the wound with blood, and still appeared to be bleeding at a noticeable rate. At first Basil was very careful to show the bare minimum, but at the sight of the wound both hands flew up to cover his mouth in shock, exposing his entire lower leg.

And as for Basil, he didn’t really seem to concerned about fixing it right now. This ghastly, insidious, surely fatal wound - in his mind, anyway - was far more pressing at the moment to his admittedly fragile psyche.

And for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the blood…

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Up, up, up. Three more flights, four more doors. A standing lamp, low to the ground, a lantern hanging from a clothing hangar, and a flashlight lying on the ground, casting the shadow of one of your brethren on the wall. Not as handsome as you, of course.

At the top of the stairs, at the last platform, a single door inset into the wall. Above you, some sort layered metal sheet set into the ceiling … a trapdoor? Set into the left wall is a dust-coated, faded green panel, about twice as large as you.

Even as fear and shock, disgust and fascination, pain and shock, suffuse the mind; even as your brain and your stomach switch places; even as you realize that you are going to die - you’ve never died in a dream - even as you are caught by suit man, even as you are caught by pure self-consciousness, something … tickles … at the back of your mind.

Tasty.

Wait, what?

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Wait, WHAT?!

The thought - the very idea, the suggestion of such a concept - was absolutely insidious and abhorrent. In no possible set of circumstances in any preconceived dread would such a suggestion have been developed from his young mind. Basil felt compelled to thoroughly reject the idea as being completely beneath both him and the entire human race; this was inexcusable. Whoever concocted such a cerebration should be tarred and feathered and repeatedly called a stingbum until he went home and cried.

And yet he had thought it.

No one had entered his subconscious and pried his mind open to drop the idea inside. There was no secret suggestion that coerced him into cohering with the notion, or admonished his conscience to disregard compunction and consign with the suggestion, just his lonesome lonesome.

That was hardly a comforting thought. And not wanting to go down that rabbit trail yet again, Basil forced himself to break contact with the hideous, awful, and most definitely fatal wound to see how lawyer man would react.

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The lawyer winced as he saw Basil’s nasty looking wound.

“Ooh, that can’t be good.”

Miles looked down at the jagged piece of glass stuck in the boy’s leg, trying to think of what he could to to help. When nothing came to mind, he turned and looked up at Alexis for help.

“You’re a doctor, right? Can you do something about this?”

@N01InParticular

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Alexis restrained herself from cursing in the presence of the boy, if she wasn’t concerned prior to bearing witness to the glass lodged in the kid’s leg she sure as hell was now

Alexis began digging through the pockets of her lab coat, feeling around for anything that might assist in the removal of the thin piece of glass. Though she doubted that some screws, tangled wires, and a few loose circuit boards would be of any assistance, but nevertheless she kept searching. Of course, another problem would be stopping the bleeding a strip of fabric from her sweater sleeve could work, its elastic properties would certainly help in applying pressure to the wound, unfortunately removing said fabric would prove challenging. Alexis would have to worry about dressing the wound later, calming the frightened boy was her main priority at the moment.

Alexis was taken aback by the statement before recalling her attire, she had originally chosen the lab coat because it would in theory be easy to clean, plus the actual pockets it featured were another influence in her decision. “I don’t think you have to be a doctor to know how to clean and dress a wound. "She answered as she kneeled beside the man in the suit, so she could inspect the wound to see if there were any smaller pieces of glass accompanying the large one.

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Jung elected to continue up the stairs whilst the remainder of the group watched the poor child. He didn’t want to crowd out the child anymore than he already was. Passing the fish, Jung went…

Jung observed the doors on each of the floors carefully, then put his ear to all to hear for any noises emanating beyond

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Oh no.

It’s fatal. I’m going to die.

Although, if I’m going to die, shouldn’t my life be flashing before my eyes? Doesn’t that happen every time in books where someone thinks they’re about to die and they suddenly recollect everything that ever happened no matter the level of importan- ugh, Basil, stop it; you’re supposed to be overreacting right now.

While that slight introspection had helped to very minimally bring the level of absolute panic down a touch, it was not destined to last. Was there a doctor in the room, one who might be able to stop the horrible grievous fatal and incurable would surely spawned by some dark and nefarious force seeking to eliminate him from existence by making him trip over the lightbulb fragments scattered across the floor which he had broken in his endeavor to escape certain trauma.

Oh, that’s right, this was all his fault he had almost forgotten about the guilt trip he was on

Basil’s head snapped to face her, his hands still bunching the blanket up around his mouth, his eyes almost glowing from the dark undiscernable hollow his face hid within. They shined with the anticipation of even more unfortunate circumstances.

The would itself was significantly messy, as the kid seemed to bleed extremely easily, but otherwise it appeared rather simple. The glass was from the fragmented lightbulb and due to its relatively weak strength could not have had the force necessary to do anything more than make it to the bone, at most.

It was a sharp, vertical cut, which drew from closer to the knee down around three inches, deepening quickly as the glass found its resting place. It was impossible to tell whether or not it had actually reached the bone while the glass was still in place, and probably further difficult as the would would likely fill with blood once the glass was removed.

Something else both Miles and Alexis may have taken into account that, much like his strangely clawed foot, his calf was rather defined for a kid of his size who, as evidenced by his sad limp up the stairs, clearly did not partake in notable physical endeavors.

One thing was certain, however: there were no extra splinters of glass. Basil’s dashing tumble directly through a massive pile of glass splinters had ended remarkably in his favor, although there was still the issue of getting this piece out. And hopefully before Basil remembered how painful walking up the stairs had been and did some simple math.

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Sue took a step back.

Not because she was scared of the blood. In fact, it didn’t look as disturbing as she’d expected. Probably because, lacking context for what it should look like, she lacked any instinctual fear of it, or discomfort upon seeing it.

Nor was she afraid of the kid. Concerned, yes, over what it was that she might’ve done to him that she didn’t remember; but despite his appearance, he was just a scared kid. It would be silly to be scared of something that was scared of you.

So what was she afraid of? It took her a moment to realize that it was the situation at hand: a scared, wounded child needed help, and she had no idea what to do. She had no idea how to help children, no idea how to take care of a wound like that – not even a vague memory of doing either. What had she done before when she got hurt? Ran to her parents? Wait, she couldn’t even remember her parents! She felt the hint of a tear forming at the edge of her eyes – eye.

No, there was nothing she could do there, and the fact that something needed to be done. She had only one instinct: get out of the way.

Therefore, she could only investigate the further reaches of this building… underground… place. That was something she could contribute. She followed Not-so-Para up to the next set of doors.

Well, perhaps it would help to know who she was stuck here with, and – wait, hadn’t she kicked this guy earlier while he couldn’t move? What if he was upset about that? What if she’d done something similar to the kid?

“sorry about, uh, kicking you earlier,” she said hastily. “So, uh, what are we looking for?” wow, awkward question much?

Sue opts to take her own advice and looks for a handle on either of the doors

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Eve pauses a moment to glower at the wounded…child? The others are tending to it, she shouldn’t interfere. Even if the small bits of empathy won out, this…body, was not suited to healing.

She also had never so much as taken a class on medicine in her life, so that probably didn’t help things.

She lumbers past the group on the stairs, only pausing to glance at Basil once before looking upward. There’s a landing up there, and…

“More. Doors.” Eve rumbles. It sounds vaguely like rocks falling.
She steps up behind Sue, alternating between glowering at her and at each of the doors.
“Are they locked? Do they even have handles?”

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Miles kept looking worried at Basil’s wound, but his face lightened a bit when he came up with a way to help.

“I could get the glass out using the same trick I got through the door with without hurting him any more,”

He looked over at Alexis.

“You think I should try?”

@N01InParticular

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Alexis had begun systematically poking small holes in her left sweater sleeve with a screw in preparation to dress the child’s wound, in fact she was already halfway done when the well-dressed man interrupted her thoughts

she shot Miles a suspicious glare as she made the first of many tears at her sleeve, What trick?

Alexis met his gaze, widening the hole in her sweater further. “That depends entirely on what the trick is, but if you feel it’s safe i’d say go for it.”

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What.

The same trick? The same trick as what?

The definition of the word ‘calm’ seemed completely unattainable for Basil, both during this moment of extremely high stress and what had been known before all these dream shenanigans as his ‘normal’ attitude of high energy and mischief involving sweets. However, one had to give him credit for trying really hard to obtain such a concept during this moment.

Okay, let’s see. He talked about getting through a door.

Wait. Passing through walls? Does that hurt?

…How much would it hurt me?

It was probably safe.

It was most likely painless or this fellow wouldn’t have suggested it. Or at least, a lot less painful than any other method. In fact, it might even be considered ‘cool’ given the circumstance. It would help him get back on his feet that much faster. It would help keep the party moving.

But the quivering eyes of Basil could only think of one thing as they stared at Miles’ hand. There was a large piece of glass in his leg, and it was about to hurt really, really badly.

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The panel was… Strange. There were no switches, and it was darker in color, while those utilized by Malaco’s owners were a chalky white. If he were to touch it, there would be a small instance of warmth emanating from it, before it was cut off.

Very strange. Perhaps one of those ‘very bad at their job’ temporary owners would know how to use it.

There was no sound. It was an uncomfortable silence.

Every door seemed to have a handle. In fact, the handles appeared to be in rather good condition, considering how the rest of the building fared.

If any of the party cared to try the doors, they would find the handles turned incredibly easily. Really, how come they had not found themselves inside a room with a proper door instead of that sad concrete box?

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"Well here goes nothing"

Jung opened the door to the other side of the hallway. He hoped someone else was there. Someone else who could get him and the others out of this strange scenario. At the same time, however, he really didn’t want someone to be there. Wherever they all were, someone had to have put them there. If that same someone was out for them, they probably wouldn’t be terribly happy they had exited the room.

Regardless of that, the group couldn’t sit around and waste away. Thus, Jung steeled his nerves and entered in

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The door struggled to give way for a moment, then, slowly and heavily swinging on its hinges, it arced into a considerably dark room. Obviously whatever Malaco was up to could wait.

The pungent smell of mold and sickly sapidity of rot flew into your senses. The room was lightless and only illuminated by an open door at the opposite end, which seemed to lead into another hall. Something shimmered on the floor of this room, illuminated by the light from beyond, and with a thrill you noticed two vague figures past that second doorway, turned away and cloaked in the dim light. Had you finally found assistance?

Hold on. This room seemed familiar…

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Distracted by the sudden noise, Eve whips her gaze toward Malaco. “Switch. Show me the switch.”

She blinks and looks toward Jung and the dimly lit doorway. She fails to notice the people, or if she does she doesn’t show it. Instead she turns toward Malaco, and then toward the black panel.

“What’s this thing?”

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