15strangers | Fighting For Your Life!

WELL SH*IKSSHSH*

[The first thing you feel when you finally come to is a headache.

The bad thing is that it's not even a painful headache - it's one of those annoying headaches that's just below the threshold of pain, and it's centered right in the middle of your forehead. Just...ugh. Where's the aspirin?

For that matter, actually, where are you? This is not your beautiful house! In fact, as get out of your bed, you realize this place isn't even remotely a home. And whatever you're wearing isn't even remotely what you recall wearing. ~~(I mean, yeah, it's not uncomfortable, and whoever dressed you was kind enough to make sure you had underwear on, I suppose. That's one less thing to worry about, right?)~~

Also, you have a weird wrist...watch...comm...thing on you, which is nice. Or at least it would be, if it and every other computer in the place didn't suddenly start making the second most ungodly noise you will no doubt come to hear in this place. The noise is followed by a a message on every desktop in the area, which won't be disappearing any time soon. Thankfully, your nifty wristwatch comm is spared this unavoidable screen, and tapping a button let's it disappear to reveal a simple profile interface, alongside a a text, calling, and photo function. Something tells you those latter two won't be particularly useful to you in the long run.

In any case, apparently you now have a Title, as well as a power, even if you've never had one before. Why? Where the hell are you? Who else is with you? Can you get out?

And...is someone laughing? The sound seems to bounce off and echo faintly throughout the floors. It's high-pitched, and - as you get closer to the theater - it gets just a little louder and just a little more grating. It sounds like a rabid hyena that huffed helium. Hopefully, it's just a movie or something that can be turned off. Someone ought to go in and do that.

In the meantime, welcome, Titled - and good luck.

There are fifteen strangers in this place.]

((OOC: Welcome!

If you haven't filled out the resident profile or current residents information yet, please do so!))

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[Deadpan mumble:] Well, if the drinks at the "masquerade" are good, that's how it's supposed to go. [Smiling with blissful ignorance through a yawn.] Otherwise I'd remember a handsome face like yours, right?

[She squints really hard at her own wristwatch and sighs, flapping her arm to indicate this thing.] 's a s-smar'watch.

[He is far from blissful and doesn't catch the yawn, but he will at least return the smile even if it doesn't reach his eyes at all.]

Nonsense, a lady like yourself must know several handsome men.

[Especially if waking up like this, in strange places, is some habit of hers, but she doesn't seem to be 'all there' right now either. Maybe she really was in a drunken stupor before all of this. He can't say the same though.]

Nevertheless, it's impossible for me to have been at a party, as I was maintaining the barrier at Stonehenge. You should wake yourself up.

[or sober up, if that's what is causing her dreamily sleepy demeanor throughout all of this weirdness. Anyway, he's going to take another look at the 'smarwatch' (which means absolutely nothing to him) and try to pull it off. When that fails, he pushes buttons - he doesn't really understand their use yet, but he vaguely recognizes its similarity to a keyboard. The closest point of reference he has to it is a harpsichord. But... with English letters. Hmm. Maybe he can tell it to 'silence' or 'release'? Instead the profiles show up, and so he's staring at that in total bemusement.]

Does it normally do that?

Oh! [She covers her mouth with a hand to chuckle because still being Like This For Now she doesn't catch any negative implication of knowing handsome men. Clearly he senses that she is a sophisticated lady cavorting with models in the fashion industry! A hardworking security guard no less. Because in her mind clearly he guards the historical exhibit and not some actual ritual shenanigans.]

Uhhhhhhhhhhh, s'an alarm. I mean, that's what screeching's for, to wake us up, anyway. But then like [she points at the screen of his] besides that alarm? You can click through it and read all sorts of things! I think. Never had one myself.

[Thanks for explaining alarms even though you still think he's a modern dude....]

'Click?' [that's just an onomatopoeia. It doesn't mean anything to him. Fortunately he's messing with all of the buttons so whatever scroll feature there is gets found soon enough.] It calls them "profiles." There are several men...

[He just hasn't gotten to any of the female profiles yet, for some reason they're all at the end.]

[Well he asked at first what the screeching was so she figures he was so confused in their situation that he attributed the noise to something other than the watches. Maybe an actual security alarm for example.

Angela sits up a little straighter with her back slack against the wall. Waking herself up forcefully is still seeming too hard so she might as well support this profile discussion. Poke poke poke...] Men and boys, more like... Ooooh, look! There's me! [She waves at "herself" like some ladies do in mirrors. Wait, this is actually kind of a creepy situation.]

[Coming of age happens way earlier when he's from, so he shrugs off that distinction. She definitely is coming off a touch narcissistic by waving at her effigy. By now he's caught on that the profiles had powers though. May as well ask,]

Can you do what it says?

No?

[Deep down she knows this is a lie but she isn't sure why and swallows it down.]

I sure shouldn't, anyway.

Pity, then. It may have helped with this damned headache.

[He really does think it sounds useful but he's mostly just trying to keep the mood light. He finds himself in the profiles soon enough, frowning.]

This is also wrong.... it fails to mention any of my true abilities.

[Which reminds him, where is his deck. He's got a bad feeling when his armor is already stripped away...]

Fighting For Your Life!

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