Machines can keep you breathing but what happens when you find a new war's begun?
Who: John Egbert and anyone who tries to find him.
When: Saturday, Jan 29th
Where: The half-frozen trap-laden hellhole. Also known as the Biodome.
Summary: John said if you want to find him to 'follow the breeze'. He hasn't been seen since the network went down. Search parties are a go?
Rating: PG to PG-13. Related link is R.
Warning: Related link has torture, mutilation and general nightmare fuel - be advised. Log itself will probably have some swearing at least.
[OOC: For further detail on the gap between John's network post and this log, see here. Heed the warnings if you don't want to check it out please!]
John was cold, he was slightly damp, and he was really tired. But he couldn't just sit there and fall asleep in the cold. The wind felt... warm, kind of. It might have been because of the ventilation was cut. Or because his wind powers made it feel more familiar... or any number of reasons. But the wind he was cautiously manipulating with his powers felt refreshing as is drifted past him and ruffled his slightly matted hair.
That's not to say the process wasn't exactly -easy-, mind you. Emotion wasn't dictating the wind's movement's here. It was all focus on John's part. And that was hard when you were a bit injured, extremely sleep deprived, and at least partially cold. To keep air flowing at a slow, steady pace and allowing some extra oxygen to slip into the slowly dwindling air supply... that was the challenge. A challenge he had inherited, he could have said.
He didn't say it, though. Cause that was a little too dumb to consider when his main task was trying to help keep everyone alive.
[OOC: I'm headed out for most of today, so feel free to coordinate amongst yourselves any search parties for the goober. I'll reply when I return!]
When: Saturday, Jan 29th
Where: The half-frozen trap-laden hellhole. Also known as the Biodome.
Summary: John said if you want to find him to 'follow the breeze'. He hasn't been seen since the network went down. Search parties are a go?
Rating: PG to PG-13. Related link is R.
Warning: Related link has torture, mutilation and general nightmare fuel - be advised. Log itself will probably have some swearing at least.
[OOC: For further detail on the gap between John's network post and this log, see here. Heed the warnings if you don't want to check it out please!]
John was cold, he was slightly damp, and he was really tired. But he couldn't just sit there and fall asleep in the cold. The wind felt... warm, kind of. It might have been because of the ventilation was cut. Or because his wind powers made it feel more familiar... or any number of reasons. But the wind he was cautiously manipulating with his powers felt refreshing as is drifted past him and ruffled his slightly matted hair.
That's not to say the process wasn't exactly -easy-, mind you. Emotion wasn't dictating the wind's movement's here. It was all focus on John's part. And that was hard when you were a bit injured, extremely sleep deprived, and at least partially cold. To keep air flowing at a slow, steady pace and allowing some extra oxygen to slip into the slowly dwindling air supply... that was the challenge. A challenge he had inherited, he could have said.
He didn't say it, though. Cause that was a little too dumb to consider when his main task was trying to help keep everyone alive.
[OOC: I'm headed out for most of today, so feel free to coordinate amongst yourselves any search parties for the goober. I'll reply when I return!]