[GRO] Floren Chadra - Teen

[seekingCylem]

The chill lessened the further Floren moved from the makeshift tomb. Still, it never left and continued to press against his back insistently. There wasn't a breeze so much as an agitation in the air. If one was outside, it might have felt like a storm was approaching.

The struts of the bookcase jutted hazardously from the mound of fallen literature. The bottom-most layer of books were clearly unsalvageable. What hadn't gotten trapped beneath a layer of congealed sopor slime had rotted away from the moisture. The top of the pile, meanwhile, was still in relatively good condition thanks to the dry, cool atmosphere of the caves.

They appeared to be mostly medical textbooks. They covered a wide variety of complexities from "Wiggler's Guide to Triage," up to "Slashail's Principles of Internal Medicine and Combative Surgery Practices, Volume VIII." Even before falling over, the shelf didn't seem like it had been organized very well. It was as if the books had been squirreled away as they were available, rather than intentionally curated.

One of the most notably misplaced books was a journal. The permanent marker had mostly worn away from the cheap notebook's surface. The pages that weren't crumpled beyond recognition were still difficult to parse from the author's scratchy handwriting and dense paragraphs. Upon further scrutiny it became apparent that much of the notebook was written in code.

Some notes stood out, however. A series of lists near the end of the notebook was labeled with numbers. 43489. 43768. 43982...

On the next page, across the full spread of the book, and in a familiar shade of green was one phase.

G E T O U T

Perhaps more jarring still: the ink was still wet.

What do you do?
A) GET ̴OU҉T̷
B) [̴͝͠O͠t͏h͟ęr̵̶]̨̛͢  

[nepsah]

The cold was brushed aside in favor of reading over some of the texts- the titles were interesting enough from what he could make of the remains. If they were in better condition he might've liked to take them. Perhaps newer editions were available in the library.

He leafed through the notebook carefully. Journals were particularly interesting- firsthand accounts were much more honest than carefully curated and scrubbed public records. He flipped through the lists, finding them to be irrelevant until he landed on the final page.

Jade text spread in caps - G E T O U T. He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck and forearms- suddenly the cold in the room felt a little too familiar. Flashbacks of trying to navigate the underground tunnels of Awassi's hive came to mind. He shut the book quickly - more harshly than he had intended and dropped it to the ground.

The ghosts in the hive had been.. somewhat visible, during a seance. It was foolish- but... "Is... someone there?" The words came out before he had given them much thought- shaky, obviously frightened. He started to disentangle himself from the bookshelf- just in case he had to make a run for it.

Quote:

B!

 

[seekingCylem]

The sound of the notebook hitting the floor seemed to echo through the entire cave system. Green ink continued to stain the edges of the paper even as it lay on the ground. The cold air settled heavily over Floren. The storm-like feeling escalated to a prominent static sensation. Within it, the vibrations steadily rose into something coherent.

"S̶T҉A҉Y A̕WA͡Y͞ / LEAV͠E US͏ A͘L͟ON͟E͡ ̢/͢ DON'̶T H͝UR͟T THEM," multiple voices stacked on top of each other. The room was suddenly filled with noise on all sides, and only growing louder.

"I͙'M̼ ̥SORR̬̘͎̥̻̖Y ̙̩̩̥ͅ/͓̜̣̲̫ ̻S͕͎̞̲̹H͖̩̝̱̜͙E ̳̻͙͍ͅD̜͉̥͈̗I̦̪͉̮͎̖D̜̙̣̦N'̹͉T̝ ̠̠̖ͅM̼̪̯͈̯̖̦E̥̲̹̟̦̮̙A̼̘̙̼̲N͈͚͉̮̦͕ I̮T͓̝̭ ̺͓͉͙͓/͈̰͈͇̥ ͓R̰̜͍̗̱̦͍U̖̘͖͖͎̞͍N̤̤ ̝̮/̜̦͙̜͎͎̠ ̻͚̤̘̪ͅGET̜͇͉ ̜͈̭̰͎̹H̯E͚̫̳̪͕R̞̫̩̲ ̞͈͓̝̩OU̞̞̰͎̺̪̼T̩͔̟̺ͅ ͍̼͉̗̼͕̦O̘̳͔̠̳͙̙F͍͉̜͔ ̖͖̲̭̹̺̰H̯̦̣̳̙̝͙E͙̞͖̥̝͈R͓̻̼E̪̙ͅ ̦͎̪̰͍/̜͉̮̥̯ ͓̥̩̞͈͖W̤̻̤A̰̖R̩N̲̗͔̭̻̟ ̮̺̲͍̱T̘H͎E̫̰ ̭̠͈̝̫̼ͅOT̫HE̼̰̹̩ͅRS ̠͈̰̱̣͖̲/͈̗̮̭͉̮̠ ̲̰̬͉̫ͅG̳̩͖̗̮E͉͉T͎͈ ̗D̦͉͎̞̬̦OW͚̳͔̱N̘͍ ̦̝̦̬/̖̯̱̱͓͓̭ W̪̭̮̜̤H͉͈̥E̞R̰E͈̥̫̟̪ Ị̦͔͇S̼͉̖ ̺̟M͚A͎J̜͇̻I̘̹͚̭̮̺KA̤̞̮̠̙ ̹̦̫͎̣͉̣/̹̲̟̣ͅ ̼̗̙̼S̩O̭̹̪M͕̤͈ͅEO͉N͖̲͇̗̠E ̳͔̘G̮E̖͍͚̬̜̣Ṭ ̮ͅT̥H̝̞͈E̯̯̗̝͉̣̤ ̤̼̦̺̤M̱̻̞̫A̭T̤͎̭̺͙R̻̬͍͍̦O̳̠͈̻̱̫̜Ṇ̗̫̜͙͉̞ ̙/ ͕̲͕ͅW̞̻̱̗̦̖H̦̯̼̭E̞̞R̭͚̝E̞̦̠̹̟ ̞͕̣̝̫͎T̫̜̹͍H̥̺͔͍̙̺E͇͙̺̝̻̗ ̳̮̬͈̪H̦̰̮̹̩ͅͅE͙L̟͎̳ͅL̯͍̺ͅ ̪̻͇̥A̜̹R͙̝̘̪̟E ͇̟̹̗̬̦T̘̙̻͈ͅH͈E ̹SE̳̗̜͍C̪̻̲̹U̱R͎̰̼̮̥I̱̦̺T̘Y͓̮̦̞͕͓ ͓̜͖̟D͕̺̟͓͎̼̫RO̻̳̞͉̲͎̪N͇͕E̙̙̜͍S ̬̝̗͓̰/͚̱̹̥̫͖͕ ͔̣̭̙̦ͅṢ̖̯T͎͚OP̙ ̯͙̭̳/ͅ ̹̪̬̲̖P͕͓̞̩L̻̘̣̘E͓̤͉A̫̬̳̰̠S̹̮E̮̭̮͎̟̼ ͈̮͉̫/̗̙̟ ̭͕̻̟̤͖D̻̱͎̜̜O͔̰̘N̗̮̖̪̦ͅ'̝̤T̙̭͙͎͇"

The sound was unbearable. It was impossible to muffle, as it seemed to drill directly into one's head with no physical source. The vibrations turned to pressure like a sleeping limb. The force shoved Floren in multiple directions, like it couldn't agree on how best to remove him from the room.

The specters' frustration rose palpably. The pile of books slid across the floor. The struts of the bookcase jutted hazardously.

What do you do?
A) Run
B) Cry
C) F̰̙͓͇͇A͚͖̪̞̯̥̼L̹̭̱͙̜ͅL̩̙̱̦͢  

[nepsah]

He brought his hands to his ears, wincing as the sound of several voices screamed in his ears. It didn't seem to help as voice after voice rang out, almost as if they were inside his head. Panic took over as a rush of adrenaline screamed at him to get out of there- just as he felt invisible forces begin shoving him. He'd made a terrible mistake - he should have gotten out-- "Stop!! I'm going!! I don't mean any harm!" He wasn't even sure if they could understand- and if they could, would they care? These echoes of long dead trolls had obviously perished terribly.

Floren forced his legs to work, stumbling forward- pushed back, to the side-- stepping forward again. His foot landed on a book, which then slipped out from under him. His hands flew out in front to brace his fall, only to be buffeted away by the flurry. A final shove- the world spun as a sudden spike of pain jutted through his chest- he cried out, instinctively grabbing at the source. His hands slipped over the strut of the bookcase that was now embedded in his chest, jade oozed in panicked spurts over the old metal. His mind went blank - what should he do? What could he do? The screaming made it so hard to concentrate-

Quote:

D!

 

[seekingCylem]

At the first splash of jade, the voices stopped. The pressure in the room vanished. The temperature stabilized. At least that's what would have been felt by anyone who wasn't Floren at that moment. The familiar chill instead settled into his chest as blood spilled down the metal pole and into the pile of books that supported them both.

It was unclear how much time passed. The sun could have risen and set a dozen times for all the good it did at the bottom of the caverns. Paper readily absorbed the blood, so even that wasn't a proper gauge for how long Floren had been pinned. Soft dripping was the only sound in the room. Or perhaps that was Floren's own pulse. It was becoming as hazy as his vision. Pain was being slowly replaced with a weight that pressed on his eyes as much as his torso.

He may have fallen asleep. The room was dark and then light again, albeit dimly and with a gauzy film.

A shadow stood silently over Floren. It was large and amorphous. His vision didn't clear, but the shape moved and separated. Three trolls, closely grouped, stood together, backlit by what little light fell through the gap in the door. Even the tallest of the trolls was slight of stature. The smallest was clearly a young child. They held each other's hands as they watched Floren bleed.

The trio waited another moment - moments - eons in silence. Finally the middle child took a half step forward. The pool of blood had nearly reached her slippers. She swiped a finger through it and examined the color. The smallest child shifted to cling to the tallest troll's skirt. Her eyes reflected white in the gloom.

The oldest girl leaned over Floren. She seemed to stretch impossibly as she positioned herself before Floren's dulling eyes. Her shaded features were impossible to make out. Her long hair shifted as her head tilted curiously.

"Y̛ou'̕r͜e one͟ o̕f ͜us̀,͏" she commented with startling clarity. A calm observation. The middle child looked up from her fingers. The littlest loosened her grip on the eldest. They all watched carefully. Thoughtfully.  

[nepsah]

Time seemed to drag on endlessly. Part of his mind wanted to push himself up- free his body from the case, but the other part knew it wouldn't happen. The longer he laid there, the harder it became to think about much of anything at all. His eyes drifted shut, then fluttered open- he wasn't sure how many times, not that he was really keeping track. Eventually a sensation of light caught what little attention he had left. One eye eased open, he was too tired to open them both.

The shadow overhead barely registered at first - then slowly took shape in his mind as it split into three. Again the back of his mind stirred to move- to leave, but he was just so tired... Too tired. Floren barely flinched as the tallest girl stretched forward, then sighed as the revelation was spoken. "...yes. I'm the same..." He whispered in reply- he was one of them. And... from the looks of it, was going to meet a similar fate down in the abandoned caverns, too. He wondered if Skoli would wait very long- or if he had been waiting very long already?


 

[seekingCylem]

It was subtle, but Floren's confirmation seemed to animate the ghosts further. The crinkle of the middle child's white eyes seemed to imply a smile. The youngest separated herself from the oldest (though still maintained a single hand on the corner of her skirt). She edged closer to the pile to peer up at Floren.

The oldest took a moment before responding. "Eve҉r͘ýo̡n̕e ̀e͞l͏se..." Her eyes closed and for a moment she was but a simple shadow. They reopened when she found her words. "..̡.has͏ ̴gone. ͢It͏'̢s ͝ju̴st u͢s̢," another slow blink, "Ju͝śt y͠ou.̕"

The younger trolls shifted so they were on either side of Floren. The oldest took a step forward, up onto the pile where she knelt down over the boy. At this distance her face showed some dimensionality beyond her hollow white eyes. A faint smile was visible.

"We͡'re still ͟hére͢.͏ After̴ ̵everything ͘t͡h̵ęy did́. ҉They're ͠a͢ll gơne,͟ b̷ut͟ ̢we ͞are̢ s͘ti͠ll he͜re̢,̕" she emphasized, grinning fully.

She stood and braced one leg against the pile of books. She took the pole lancing Floren in both hands. It seemed to prickle and spark under her influence.

"Y̢o҉u̧'re o͏ne̴ of us͝.̴ ́You͝ won'̨t͞ ̀go so ea͘śil͟y̢ e̢i͏th̶er.͢"

The ghost yanked the pole from Floren's chest and everything went white with pain.


Upon awaking, the ghosts were gone. The remains of the bookcase were piled in a tangle heap in the corner. The only evidence of injury was a green-stained hole in Floren's shirt, and a dull scar on his chest. His back was presumably in a similar state. The skin was stiff and achy, but hardly noticeable compared to before. Far more catching was the vibrant, literal glow of Floren's skin. Pale white light filled the room, casting tall shadows on the walls and illuminating the mess of bloody books beneath him.

The room is warm and quiet.

What do you do?
A) Examine room.
B) Return to the hallway.
C) Go home.  

[nepsah]

He listened silently as she spoke- her words were sad to him. Alone, just the three of them, for who knows how long. As they shifted about he followed their movement as best as he could with his eye, but it took so much concentration just to keep up with them. He looked back to the oldest ghost as she moved forward and gripped the pole- "I don't...-" He was about to say he didn't understand, but then the pain started up again, fresh and new.

Some time later, he woke, blinking slowly as the world came back to him. Overhead was the ceiling... he rolled his head, spotting the remains of the bookcase, then looked back up again... What had happened...? Slowly, he sat up, feeling dizzy and unsure if his memory was quite right. He felt for his chest- the scar tissue indicated he'd been there for a while, maybe? Wait.

He brought both hands up in front of him. They were glowing. Literally glowing. Had he died? Was he a ghost now? He patted at himself hurriedly- everything felt solid, but did that mean anything? Did ghosts experience themselves as solid beings? "H--hello??" He looked around- the three children were nowhere to be seen.

Shaken, he pushed himself up to his feet, taking a moment to re-find his balance. They were gone... and he was still there. Numbly, he made his way back out into the hallway, still not entirely convinced he was alive.

Quote:

B

 

[seekingCylem]

There was no response to Floren's call. The room was silent. Empty, but not as oppressively as before. It was a room in which a tragedy had occurred, but still just a simple room nonetheless.

Despite being just as dark and empty as before, the hallway felt similarly... normal. It was a simple edification center; far less grandiose than the facilities in Chittentown, but built sturdy and well tended to all things considered. Certain details seemed to stand out more. Little scuff marks on the floor. Educational posters with simple, child-friendly designs. Hand-made science presentations displayed on the walls. It was almost homey.

Where do you go?
A) Classrooms
B) Library
C) Return to the main entrance
D) Go home  

[nepsah]

The normalness of his surroundings did little to help ground him, but he did calm down. The changes were a little too easy to accept, probably. He wanted, on some level, to keep exploring. There's eternity to do that, said a little voice in his head that assumed he was dead. Plenty of time to get to know the place... there were more pressing questions to be answered. Namely, could he leave?

It took a little for him to remember which way he'd come but eventually he found his trail. The strange sense of calm he felt should be alarming, right? But it wasn't- just as the glow coming from his skin wasn't all that alarming either, now. Absently he patted at the bag he'd been putting souvenirs into to make sure that they were still there.

Quote:

D

 

[seekingCylem]

The halls of the Jade Dormitories remained quiet and peaceful, save for Floren's own footsteps. It wasn't until he'd made it back into the courtyard that the familiar chill of the mountain caves returned.

If he turned back at all, he may have noticed a flickering shade cross one of the windows. Or perhaps it was just another shadow created by his luminescent skin.

In the clearer spaces where there wasn't so much detritus to catch on the light, the glow proved immensely practical navigating the caverns. Tracks leading to the exit became clear, removing the need to scale back up the tunnel Floren had fallen down in the first place.

The mountain trail seemed exactly as Floren had left it--to the point where it was difficult to tell how long he'd been below ground. Hours? Nights? If nothing else he was lucky there was still plenty of time before dawn.

Compared to the somber silence of the brooding cavern, the forest was alight with noise. Wind and birdsong filled the open air.