The Lockdown Mods (
lockdownmods) wrote in
locked_down2018-08-12 11:24 am
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
Awaken...
[ Everything still feels a bit hazy when you pull yourself out of bed this morning. Bed... not all of you may remember going to bed. It may take several long minutes for that feeling to die down. Several things may seem immediately wrong. But even if the basics are familiar-- there's a sort of uneasy feeling of wrongness that lingers as you come to. That feeling will probably never go away entirely.
Attached to your wrist is a small plastic wristband, almost like a watch, but without the numbers. Try as you might, it won't come off. For those of you who are familiar, it is designed with an uncanny familiarity to a Fitbit.
And then there's your current abode-- the room is fully furnished for one person-- and you are in fact alone, which may be a relief... or a great concern. The basics are all there: desk, lamp, bed, closet...
As the little things go though, it's almost completely bare of any personal flare. No personal effects at all...
With one exception.
On the desk sits a black tablet. And almost immediately after you find it, the thing starts going off one rapid fire 'ding' after another. Check it out and you will find several messages have popped up on the screen for you to scan through. The source and the content is... well. As questionable as everything else this morning I'd say. ]
[ It would seem that you have much to investigate. Perhaps discussing it with these "others" may be the most beneficial way to proceed for now. At the very least there is a promise of answers in the near future. Whether or not they'll be to your liking though... highly doubtful at this stage, really. But who knows! Going back to school (or to school for your first time) can't be so bad, right? ]
Attached to your wrist is a small plastic wristband, almost like a watch, but without the numbers. Try as you might, it won't come off. For those of you who are familiar, it is designed with an uncanny familiarity to a Fitbit.
And then there's your current abode-- the room is fully furnished for one person-- and you are in fact alone, which may be a relief... or a great concern. The basics are all there: desk, lamp, bed, closet...
As the little things go though, it's almost completely bare of any personal flare. No personal effects at all...
With one exception.
On the desk sits a black tablet. And almost immediately after you find it, the thing starts going off one rapid fire 'ding' after another. Check it out and you will find several messages have popped up on the screen for you to scan through. The source and the content is... well. As questionable as everything else this morning I'd say. ]
![]() ▼ X |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
![]() |
[ It would seem that you have much to investigate. Perhaps discussing it with these "others" may be the most beneficial way to proceed for now. At the very least there is a promise of answers in the near future. Whether or not they'll be to your liking though... highly doubtful at this stage, really. But who knows! Going back to school (or to school for your first time) can't be so bad, right? ]
no subject
[More like he'll bluff his socks off, because it's not like he can do anything else. He'll bluff all he can and hope they believe him]
no subject
no subject
[He wants to believe it'd be as simple as that, if he ever was forced to deal with this more than he'd like to]
no subject
no subject
[It sounds to him like you have an inkling what it could be, yep]
no subject
no subject
[He was looking forward to finding out what Rebecca had in mind he can't avoid but feel disappointed. It shows in his face for a moment beore he decides it's not that big of a deal]
It doesn't matter anyway. We have to get out and that's all we have to worry about. Their reasons are none of my concern!
[Pretty telling he says 'my concern', because yeah. All he cares is about getting out]
no subject
I suppose they aren't. ...Do you really know where you're going, by the way, mister...?