Vice Director (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sevenvirtues2016-04-19 07:55 pm
vicedirector) wrote in sevenvirtues2016-04-19 07:55 pm
(no subject)
You awaken to blackness. Frightening, although familiar--this is the same terrible thing you narrowly avoided during your first trip into Lebensbaum. The pain of your death is still real, echoes of the wounds you suffered appearing on your skin. Inspecting your surroundings will tell you that you've woken up inside of the cooled, empty bonfire pit....and the town as it was is nowhere to be seen.
The sky is a whirlwind of blank, dark void. What previously acted as roadblocks on either side of the town seems to have moved upward, blocking out most of the sun's light. The street is barren, filled with piles of broken concrete, shattered glass, and smoking craters where many of the buildings used to be. Old bloodstains dot the pavement, mixing in with overturned cars and crumbling brick walls. Lebensbaum is a dead town, in more ways than one.
Except for the hotel. It stands, as dusty and abandoned as it ever was, but no worse for the wear. Scorch marks can be seen on the ground around it in a clear border, as though it had a barrier protecting it from whatever destroyed the village. If you venture inside, everything is in its place, as though the outside wasn't completely obliterated.
The living can be seen walking around, going about their daily lives, and if you concentrate, you can even see the buildings as they once were--in working order, clean, and in one piece.
As of Monday on Week 10, however, there is a door, seemingly pasted into the middle of the street. As the days tick by, the doors will increase in number, one for each victim.
The sky is a whirlwind of blank, dark void. What previously acted as roadblocks on either side of the town seems to have moved upward, blocking out most of the sun's light. The street is barren, filled with piles of broken concrete, shattered glass, and smoking craters where many of the buildings used to be. Old bloodstains dot the pavement, mixing in with overturned cars and crumbling brick walls. Lebensbaum is a dead town, in more ways than one.
Except for the hotel. It stands, as dusty and abandoned as it ever was, but no worse for the wear. Scorch marks can be seen on the ground around it in a clear border, as though it had a barrier protecting it from whatever destroyed the village. If you venture inside, everything is in its place, as though the outside wasn't completely obliterated.
The living can be seen walking around, going about their daily lives, and if you concentrate, you can even see the buildings as they once were--in working order, clean, and in one piece.
As of Monday on Week 10, however, there is a door, seemingly pasted into the middle of the street. As the days tick by, the doors will increase in number, one for each victim.
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[By this time he's calmed down significantly. The rickshaw not being where it belongs. That's a concern common in his everyday life. He's one step closer to home by having to ask about it.]
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[It's actually a good sign that he's able to say literally in this informal, figurative manner after the time he was literally killed. Does Rhys or anybody know how to do that? He knows it's probably not too complicated for an engineer, but do they even have bikes in the future? Well, Lithuania seems to have gathered a lot of knowledge over the course of her crazy nation life too.]