Chat
08-02-2017, 11:53 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-02-2017, 11:55 PM by ThePaladin.)
1 Aug 2017
No intention set
Setting is a library/museum. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with old bound books, all the way to the ceiling. Access ladders propped against railings to allow access to books on higher shelves. Tables with reading lamps and chairs. Display cases with artifacts in them. A suit of armor backed up to a column. Wooden floors that creak. A feel of age to the place. There are other people there with me, men and women. Don't know them yet we seem to be working together as some sort of team, yet on individual assignments. I'm retrieving people. Bringing them in. I seem able to pop out and in at will. First person I retrieve is an older man with dark hair and a goatee, dressed in a late 1800's-style suit. All I know about him is he has information we need. Then I retrieve another man. Younger, late 20's-mid-30's. Tall and solid. Dressed in the old BDU's, the forest cammies. Bleached blonde hair that's way longer than military regs dictate. He's bleeding from multiple wounds. One on his face, over his left eye, and what appears to be a stab wound on his left flank. He's holding his side, blood flowing freely over his fingers. I want to hold him, help him, yet all I do is rest my head against his chest and tell him I miss him, tell him he needs medical attention stat. He pulls me into a quick hug with his right arm, then takes my shoulder and moves me back so he can look down at me. Tells me he'll be okay. Tells me that I need to go, to tell the others to run, that "they" know where we are and "they" are coming. Tells me to go, he'll be fine, just go. I don't argue with him. Just pop out, away from him and into a different part of the library where the others are gathered. I see another person, a woman, there, one I know doesn't belong there. Somehow I know it's one of "them." I yell for everyone to go now, now, NOW! Everyone pops out except the stranger, who says to me that it doesn't matter, "they" know who we are and "they" will find us all sooner or later and remove us. I don't reply but I do flip the woman off as I pop out and away.
No intention set
Setting is a library/museum. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with old bound books, all the way to the ceiling. Access ladders propped against railings to allow access to books on higher shelves. Tables with reading lamps and chairs. Display cases with artifacts in them. A suit of armor backed up to a column. Wooden floors that creak. A feel of age to the place. There are other people there with me, men and women. Don't know them yet we seem to be working together as some sort of team, yet on individual assignments. I'm retrieving people. Bringing them in. I seem able to pop out and in at will. First person I retrieve is an older man with dark hair and a goatee, dressed in a late 1800's-style suit. All I know about him is he has information we need. Then I retrieve another man. Younger, late 20's-mid-30's. Tall and solid. Dressed in the old BDU's, the forest cammies. Bleached blonde hair that's way longer than military regs dictate. He's bleeding from multiple wounds. One on his face, over his left eye, and what appears to be a stab wound on his left flank. He's holding his side, blood flowing freely over his fingers. I want to hold him, help him, yet all I do is rest my head against his chest and tell him I miss him, tell him he needs medical attention stat. He pulls me into a quick hug with his right arm, then takes my shoulder and moves me back so he can look down at me. Tells me he'll be okay. Tells me that I need to go, to tell the others to run, that "they" know where we are and "they" are coming. Tells me to go, he'll be fine, just go. I don't argue with him. Just pop out, away from him and into a different part of the library where the others are gathered. I see another person, a woman, there, one I know doesn't belong there. Somehow I know it's one of "them." I yell for everyone to go now, now, NOW! Everyone pops out except the stranger, who says to me that it doesn't matter, "they" know who we are and "they" will find us all sooner or later and remove us. I don't reply but I do flip the woman off as I pop out and away.