Hours had passed in silence. Thera had heard creaking in the floors above her as the group slowly trickled upstairs. The next clue floor must have been open.
She was through with clues. Didn't want to hear them, obviously didn't need them because she didn't understand them. They were a nuisance and turned innocent people into killers.
But they had already gotten two clues. And three was always considered a charm.
Thera's hands curled into fists. If she and Remy wanted to get out of here, Thera would have to play the game too. Her partner was up there, she knew it. So she would have to be there too.
The woman entirely ignored whatever damnable clue was given by those two blathering clowns. She walked directly to the same room she had tried from the very beginning.
She hadn't meant to scream like she had, but there it was anyway. Thera coughed on the smoke and waved her hand back and forth. "Damn room-" she slammed the door shut and walked to room nine to see if Remy was okay.
Sindre stared hard at the figures on screen. Focusing on the clues hadn't done much for him in the past, but looking at their dress...
Thinking back to the large Sherlock Holmes anthology on his shelf, he tried to recall where Sherlock Holmes lived. They used it in House, too; one of his roommates in college watched that...
221B Baker Street. It wasn't a perfect match, but Sindre still went with door 21.
He fumed silently as he followed Garcia upstairs, his mind echoing with his furious mantra as he watched others shuffle around and pick their doors. (He covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a sick laugh when Thera stumbled away from her chosen door with a loud explosion and a shriek.)
"Yao..." The voice was intentionally soft, but it still startled the boy. When he whipped around, Thera was standing near him, arms neatly folded across her chest. She took a step forward, leaning a shoulder against the wall. "Before you go in," she nodded her head to his door, "I wanted to show you something. I found a symbol. Maybe you could take a look?"
"A...symbol?" Yao wasn't good at Hieroglyphs, nor with any Pagan symbol. He may have lost a small speck of trust for Thera, but he still has faith. She got to an almost-perfect reasoning last time...all she needed was time. "Is this something" Important? "....you think I can read?"
With a light nod, Yao removed himself off the door and ready to follow the woman.
Thera lead Yao down the hallway and around the corner. She turned the handle cautiously and gave a slight push, keeping distance as if afraid of more firecrackers leaping out at her.
Nothing exploded this time, but the stale, clogged smell of gunpowder still lingered. She lead, taking Yao's hand to guide him into the room so that he could see the wall. She pointed.
志
"It looked, um, Chinese-ish. So I thought you might know..."
The first shout had him stumbling out of room 3, the second sent him careening down the hall skittishly. His feet slid on the moisture leaking out of room 18 and he hardly cared what it was at this point even as he fell to his knees in it and threw his arms around Ivan's neck, too far gone to notice the odd placement of his cousin's scarf.
"Ваня, Ваня, я хочу пойти домой. Я хочу домой! Почему мы не можем просто пойти домой? Мы ничего не делали. Пожалуйста, обращайтесь, пожалуйста, я просто хочу домой," he mumbled into Ivan's shoulder, clutching at the fabric of his coat with tense and twitching fingers.
"Eyonya...? Неужели это ты?" He confirmed his guess when his arms went around his cousin's neck, feeling the long lengths of hair there. His fingers tangled in it, knotted in it, held to it, as if it were the only thing supplying the gravity beneath his feet. "Мы поедем домой. И я сделаю хороший горячий миску борща для нас..." said as if convincing himself more than his cousin.
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She was through with clues. Didn't want to hear them, obviously didn't need them because she didn't understand them. They were a nuisance and turned innocent people into killers.
But they had already gotten two clues. And three was always considered a charm.
Thera's hands curled into fists. If she and Remy wanted to get out of here, Thera would have to play the game too. Her partner was up there, she knew it. So she would have to be there too.
The woman entirely ignored whatever damnable clue was given by those two blathering clowns. She walked directly to the same room she had tried from the very beginning.
Door 25.
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志
...messily written in blood on an adjacent wall.
This is not the clue room.]
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Thinking back to the large Sherlock Holmes anthology on his shelf, he tried to recall where Sherlock Holmes lived. They used it in House, too; one of his roommates in college watched that...
221B Baker Street. It wasn't a perfect match, but Sindre still went with door 21.
Reply
This is not the clue room.]
Reply
He fumed silently as he followed Garcia upstairs, his mind echoing with his furious mantra as he watched others shuffle around and pick their doors.
(He covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a sick laugh when Thera stumbled away from her chosen door with a loud explosion and a shriek.)
He wandered from his partner's side to door 3.
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This is not the clue room.]
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With a light nod, Yao removed himself off the door and ready to follow the woman.
Reply
Nothing exploded this time, but the stale, clogged smell of gunpowder still lingered. She lead, taking Yao's hand to guide him into the room so that he could see the wall. She pointed.
志
"It looked, um, Chinese-ish. So I thought you might know..."
Reply
"Ваня, Ваня, я хочу пойти домой. Я хочу домой! Почему мы не можем просто пойти домой? Мы ничего не делали. Пожалуйста, обращайтесь, пожалуйста, я просто хочу домой," he mumbled into Ivan's shoulder, clutching at the fabric of his coat with tense and twitching fingers.
Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт. Черт--
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