Night 50: M111-M120 Hallway

[sanguinario]

So, her roommate was nice. A nice, ordinary girl... with memories of a serial killer. Nothing to worry about but switching that girl's memory with Bella's face. Absolutely nothing to worry about

Comments

[oneman_onekill]

Niikura didn't like hearing a message that he knew wasn't for him, but he wasn't about to sit around in his room moping about it either. He had wasted last night; tonight he'd finally figure out a little more about this place other than the location of the women's quarters

[anemptydecapo]

[ YEAAAAAAAAH]

Edward didn't have to wait long; the very instant the assassin neared the door, it was swiftly kicked open with a resounding bang. The vial of blood he'd been carrying was thrown at the other man immediately afterward (it could have been delivered with more care, yes, but he couldn't care less right now. He'd give his life for Master Zato's safety. Spilled blood meant nothing) and the only outward sign he showed of not opting to flee immediately was his gloved fingers tightening around his cue and gripping harshly onto the wooden frame with the other hand, too filled with nervous energy to stay still without support

[sanguinario]

It was for the best he still retained some of his speed, otherwise the door would've slammed him in the shoulder and the needle would've landed in his face. As it was, he caught it rather safely in his hand, only having enough time to look up at Venom to see his rather hasty exit. The vampire had cringed when the assassin had come through the door, because with him came an internal tornado of worry, frighteningly similar to his own. But the other was capable, and there was no need to worry for him as well.

With the man gone and his roommate as well, he turned the syringe in his fingers and let loose a drop on a fingertip, which he then tasted.

Oh. So Venom's blood this time.

Now he was off. With another burst of exceptional speed, he'd placed the side-by-side in his pillowcase, now removed from his pillow, and the syringe which was wrapped up in his bed sheet. He was hungry now, but if he received injuries sometime during the night, he was going to need it.

He just couldn't let Bella see it.

[To here.]

M119

[saviored]

There was nothing about a close encounter with fire that even made it near pleasant. When the number of things that could actually end your undead existence consisted of maybe three items total, the ones on the list were special-and really, Damon didn't much care for near-death experiences when he was already dead, anyway. Redundancy was a nuisance.

At any rate, he'd ditched the merry little rescue band so he could go crash without an audience. Skull-splitting effects, being set on fire-he was entitled. And when he woke up, he noticed that the ceiling was way too white and way too low to be the house

[saviored]

Okay, that was it. Answers. He wanted them, immediately. Which meant he had to find people. Which was fine. If they were wearing vervain, he'd rip it off. Humans. Give them a charm stuffed with an herb and they thought they could mimic invulnerability.

He dug for shoes, chucking clothes onto the floor because they could pick that up or not for all he cared. He finally dug out some shoes (first on the list: find his own goddamn clothes), and yanked open the door. Irritation increased with every ticking second. He'd had a bad night, all right? Some time out wouldn't go amiss. He still wanted to see Elena, talk to her, and really, he should tell Jeremy that his vampire girlfriend was dead, too. His second vampire girlfriend, that was. The one that wasn't Damon's fault.

His eyes narrowed, one hand resting on the doorframe as he peered out. He wasn't usually one for caution, but he felt off. Something wasn't right. About himself. He didn't feel right, like he missing a whole lot of things he never even thought he could be missing

M???

[buryyourdemons]

One could instantly know when they were in new surroundings. The air breathed came new, more stale and stagnant with mixes of cleaners. If he opened eyes to reorient himself, he would find himself with the need--he understood that he was not where he had been. There was no memory of transition, which allowed only one option to surface. A capture, for reasons known or unknown. Either of which would be negated now that he was aware. If they were intelligent, they would have kept him asleep

M111

[scavengerbird]

It was dark when he came to. Zevran trusted his instincts, and waking up in the middle of the night was not something that he did voluntarily. It was an exercise saved strictly for emergencies, and so he shed the drowsiness swiftly. A shame, really. He had been looking forward to the prospect of a relaxed morning. He was confident in his ability to tempt the Grey Warden into a late start on the day. Another time, perhaps

Re: M111

[scavengerbird]

It was not his friends who had delivered him here, and whoever his captors may be, they of course were not going to be very keen on the idea of him being properly equipped. He might stab someone in a fit of self-defense. Perhaps their intentions were not malicious (he was alive, was he not?), but there were dark thoughts at the edge of his mind. They were threatening to come in and play out terrible possibilities of how he came to be moved in his sleep with no sign of the Grey Warden. But he did not need to think on them now. He would not move faster for imagining his companions captured, tortured or dead. He already knew it was a realistic possibility, and he could address that when he found out exactly what their fate was. There was no point in mourning the living.

But these people, they had made him soft. He liked them. Well, if not like, then at the very least he didn't particularly want them dead. It was only one or two of them whom he worried for now, which he supposed was better than having taken the lot of them into his

Re: M111

[scavengerbird]

[To here.]