Wake Up
Characters: Marceline + anyone who wants in
Setting: Room 2-01 (if you want to just pass by there), and then on to other floors.
Format: Starting in prose but I'll match you.
Summary: This Vampire Queen is less than pleased about all these rules, this tower, and she's looking for a way back home.
Warnings: None at the moment.
Every day she woke up without the sleep paralysis was enough cause to be thankful, but Marceline wasn't going to accuse herself of being a grateful creature. She could still feel the sourness in her stomach from that forsaken oatmeal (not a drop of red to be leeched from it at all, besides the fact that oatmeal turned her stomach anyway), the heaviness of her limbs for the too-long seconds when she woke up in this bleak world with that note by her bedside. How could she be happy here, it wasn't Ooo. There was no one to bother. No one to appreciate her playing. Not that she needed it, really. It was just nice.
With a sigh, she swung her legs out of the bed, picked her way around the mess of things she'd scattered around, the amp at the foot of her bed where she'd been sitting there the night before playing as loud as she could in hopes someone in charge would come say something so she could demand to go home, her extra shoes, her jeans from the previous day, and settled her axe bass on the bed so she could open her trunk and get some new clothes. Today was going to be a day to explore, and she wasn't going out without the bass. If worst came to worst she could get her bearings, track someone down, and threaten them for answers at the least.
Setting: Room 2-01 (if you want to just pass by there), and then on to other floors.
Format: Starting in prose but I'll match you.
Summary: This Vampire Queen is less than pleased about all these rules, this tower, and she's looking for a way back home.
Warnings: None at the moment.
Every day she woke up without the sleep paralysis was enough cause to be thankful, but Marceline wasn't going to accuse herself of being a grateful creature. She could still feel the sourness in her stomach from that forsaken oatmeal (not a drop of red to be leeched from it at all, besides the fact that oatmeal turned her stomach anyway), the heaviness of her limbs for the too-long seconds when she woke up in this bleak world with that note by her bedside. How could she be happy here, it wasn't Ooo. There was no one to bother. No one to appreciate her playing. Not that she needed it, really. It was just nice.
With a sigh, she swung her legs out of the bed, picked her way around the mess of things she'd scattered around, the amp at the foot of her bed where she'd been sitting there the night before playing as loud as she could in hopes someone in charge would come say something so she could demand to go home, her extra shoes, her jeans from the previous day, and settled her axe bass on the bed so she could open her trunk and get some new clothes. Today was going to be a day to explore, and she wasn't going out without the bass. If worst came to worst she could get her bearings, track someone down, and threaten them for answers at the least.