[BACKDATED] Slowly walking down the hall Faster than a canonball ~
Characters: Sight (shouldve_didnt)
Date/Time: From July 10 until July 26
Location: The City Without Shape
Rating: G
Summary: Sight had been missing for over two weeks--where the hell was he anyway? (Note: This is his experience on the fourth floor, which was the setting of Purgatorium [apurgatorium] at the time that I'd played him in that RP. You may find out more about his stay there by checking out pretty old entries on his journal or his application here.)
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After managing to grab a fresh new journal from those at the paper factory, Sight and Bold eventually parted ways. He figured it was time to head out and get himself home--naturally, that was when the elevator decided to get moody with him. Before long, he found himself stuck at the fourth floor. The man had jammed at the first and second floor buttons a couple times; then, he just tried button mashing in general, but the elevator just wouldn't budge.
Instead, the doors actually opened, revealing dusty earth paths and dirty, dilapidated shacks surrounding him. It looked like some place that the third floor wilderness would turn into, but the indicator clearly lit that he was on the fourth floor. On the Edensphere map, it was called something fancy like 'The City Without Shape', which was rather curious. Mysterious.
He stepped out, and the doors closed behind him before the elevator lifted along its merry way.
Meanwhile, Sight decided it couldn't hurt to investigate the surroundings. He was an adventurer; heck, he was a team leader at this point, and there'd be no harm done in doing his job even if it wasn't in the wilderness or on the second floor.
There didn't seem to be a sky--no, if there was a sky, it was covered by a huge, sectioned disc overhead. As he peered through the darkness, he saw mostly run-down buildings and debris littering his surroundings. The paths were dusty, gravelly roads... if you could even call them roads, as they were hardly anything more than weathered and worn patches distinguished by the lack of dead grass.
Although this looked absolutely nothing like the places in his dream, there was something terribly familiar about this place. There were conflicting feelings of both attachment and detachment, a sense of homeliness and terrible guilt. For whatever reason, he didn't know, but it tore him tremendously.
His one black eye scanned about; further in the distance, buildings seemed more dense. Something in his gut was telling him that the area had been repaired and people should be living there--why? It wasn't like he knew anything about the place, but it wasn't like everything one needed to know about himself was included in those dreams before hatching from those cocoons anyway... Sure enough, when he'd finally reached something like a city square or plaza, the streets and buildings were better repaired despite the fact that there looked like the barest minimum of equipment to work with. As he continued walking, it began to rain in a quiet drizzle. Still dark, still dark. There wasn't much to look at; nothing impressive at all.
Seemed like he'd been walking around forever--he'd passed a clock tower, a garage, some warehouses, a river, and going a ways out, there was a junk yard. Somewhere in the midst of the decrepit city was a strange stairway, leading to another city in slightly better condition and with the view of a sky and stars. Empty buildings, empty streets, but something seemed all too familiar about everything there--especially this one 'homely' building. It was in a manner of disrepair, but something felt so much like home when it came to that place and a tiny, beat-up workshop nearby. For all that the place seemed like home, it also seemed very much like hell. Like a place where all his nightmares became a reality. Or like a place that built up one's emotions only to tear them all right back down.
What the hell was this place? He couldn't place it, no, but he did feel a connection. The garage and junk yard were also incredibly strong points--the same ripping feelings of attachment, rejection, guilt, misery, and shame. Why?
He'd finally completed what could've been the endless round. It was enough exploring for today. Unlike being in the wilderness, he found it rather easy to eventually come across the elevator instead of becoming dreadfully lost. Almost magically, the doors slid open, and the man sauntered on in feeling somewhat tired, lonely, miserable, and guilty about this whole trip. It just seemed so thoroughly unpleasant, and he wanted to just wash away all those horrible feelings that began to eat away at his heart.
Date/Time: From July 10 until July 26
Location: The City Without Shape
Rating: G
Summary: Sight had been missing for over two weeks--where the hell was he anyway? (Note: This is his experience on the fourth floor, which was the setting of Purgatorium [apurgatorium] at the time that I'd played him in that RP. You may find out more about his stay there by checking out pretty old entries on his journal or his application here.)
------
After managing to grab a fresh new journal from those at the paper factory, Sight and Bold eventually parted ways. He figured it was time to head out and get himself home--naturally, that was when the elevator decided to get moody with him. Before long, he found himself stuck at the fourth floor. The man had jammed at the first and second floor buttons a couple times; then, he just tried button mashing in general, but the elevator just wouldn't budge.
Instead, the doors actually opened, revealing dusty earth paths and dirty, dilapidated shacks surrounding him. It looked like some place that the third floor wilderness would turn into, but the indicator clearly lit that he was on the fourth floor. On the Edensphere map, it was called something fancy like 'The City Without Shape', which was rather curious. Mysterious.
He stepped out, and the doors closed behind him before the elevator lifted along its merry way.
Meanwhile, Sight decided it couldn't hurt to investigate the surroundings. He was an adventurer; heck, he was a team leader at this point, and there'd be no harm done in doing his job even if it wasn't in the wilderness or on the second floor.
There didn't seem to be a sky--no, if there was a sky, it was covered by a huge, sectioned disc overhead. As he peered through the darkness, he saw mostly run-down buildings and debris littering his surroundings. The paths were dusty, gravelly roads... if you could even call them roads, as they were hardly anything more than weathered and worn patches distinguished by the lack of dead grass.
Although this looked absolutely nothing like the places in his dream, there was something terribly familiar about this place. There were conflicting feelings of both attachment and detachment, a sense of homeliness and terrible guilt. For whatever reason, he didn't know, but it tore him tremendously.
His one black eye scanned about; further in the distance, buildings seemed more dense. Something in his gut was telling him that the area had been repaired and people should be living there--why? It wasn't like he knew anything about the place, but it wasn't like everything one needed to know about himself was included in those dreams before hatching from those cocoons anyway... Sure enough, when he'd finally reached something like a city square or plaza, the streets and buildings were better repaired despite the fact that there looked like the barest minimum of equipment to work with. As he continued walking, it began to rain in a quiet drizzle. Still dark, still dark. There wasn't much to look at; nothing impressive at all.
Seemed like he'd been walking around forever--he'd passed a clock tower, a garage, some warehouses, a river, and going a ways out, there was a junk yard. Somewhere in the midst of the decrepit city was a strange stairway, leading to another city in slightly better condition and with the view of a sky and stars. Empty buildings, empty streets, but something seemed all too familiar about everything there--especially this one 'homely' building. It was in a manner of disrepair, but something felt so much like home when it came to that place and a tiny, beat-up workshop nearby. For all that the place seemed like home, it also seemed very much like hell. Like a place where all his nightmares became a reality. Or like a place that built up one's emotions only to tear them all right back down.
What the hell was this place? He couldn't place it, no, but he did feel a connection. The garage and junk yard were also incredibly strong points--the same ripping feelings of attachment, rejection, guilt, misery, and shame. Why?
He'd finally completed what could've been the endless round. It was enough exploring for today. Unlike being in the wilderness, he found it rather easy to eventually come across the elevator instead of becoming dreadfully lost. Almost magically, the doors slid open, and the man sauntered on in feeling somewhat tired, lonely, miserable, and guilty about this whole trip. It just seemed so thoroughly unpleasant, and he wanted to just wash away all those horrible feelings that began to eat away at his heart.