escape velocity not achieved
Who: Mal Cobb, Arthur, Angelica Sexby. Closed.
What: Convinced the Barge is now a collapsing dream, Mal is going to try to take the only way out that she knows.
Where: Outside an elevator shaft on an upper floor.
When: Thursday night, after Mal has made this post.
Warnings: Attempted suicide.
It was all falling apart; it was so obvious. She should have realised it as soon as the lights went out and her furniture disappeared; the fact that now those who "died" (and despite Arthur's experiences, Mal remained unconvinced that whatever happened here was true death or even true dream-death by any stretch) were not reviving was simply confirmation. She should have acted days ago.
There weren't many options. Most of them risked discovery, but finally she settled on the elevator shaft. Other methods made her uncomfortable; a kick was just a kick, but she had never liked, for example, the prospect of slow strangulation. So it was the elevator. Great heights. Irrevocable and infallible.
She crept along the corridor, clutching a table leg she'd stolen from the dining hall's firewood pile. Assured that she was alone, she wedged the table leg in between the doors. Pulled. Splinters dug into her hands but she didn't care. Finally, after several minutes of struggle, she managed to open a gap of about six inches. Almost enough. She braced her hands and feet in the gap and began to push, slowly forcing the doors to a gap wide enough to fit her body through.
Just little further...
What: Convinced the Barge is now a collapsing dream, Mal is going to try to take the only way out that she knows.
Where: Outside an elevator shaft on an upper floor.
When: Thursday night, after Mal has made this post.
Warnings: Attempted suicide.
It was all falling apart; it was so obvious. She should have realised it as soon as the lights went out and her furniture disappeared; the fact that now those who "died" (and despite Arthur's experiences, Mal remained unconvinced that whatever happened here was true death or even true dream-death by any stretch) were not reviving was simply confirmation. She should have acted days ago.
There weren't many options. Most of them risked discovery, but finally she settled on the elevator shaft. Other methods made her uncomfortable; a kick was just a kick, but she had never liked, for example, the prospect of slow strangulation. So it was the elevator. Great heights. Irrevocable and infallible.
She crept along the corridor, clutching a table leg she'd stolen from the dining hall's firewood pile. Assured that she was alone, she wedged the table leg in between the doors. Pulled. Splinters dug into her hands but she didn't care. Finally, after several minutes of struggle, she managed to open a gap of about six inches. Almost enough. She braced her hands and feet in the gap and began to push, slowly forcing the doors to a gap wide enough to fit her body through.
Just little further...