Entry tags:
Welcome.
It doesn't matter where you last were or what you were doing. What matters is that you're waking up in a decently comfortable bed in a room that's completely unfamiliar. You may feel a bit groggy, like you've slept for too long, but that will fade in time. Welcome to Graceside Preparatory Academy. You may want to pick up the key to your room before you leave, though don't worry. Your door won't lock automatically so you won't be locked out if you've forgotten to pick it up. The hallway outside your room is most likely full of other confused students by now and should you turn around to look at the door of the room you just left, you'll find a nameplate with your name printed on it. There's a single word underneath it with no explanation. This is your title, but don't worry about that right now. Depending on when you left your room there may be a clock chiming in the foyer up ahead. It seems like it's seven, though it's difficult to tell if it's seven in the morning or seven at night. There aren't any windows, after all. Should you venture into the room with the clock, you'll find that the only exit is closed - there's absolutely no way to break down that steel bulkhead. It looks like you're stuck in here for the time being. The foyer also holds some very interesting information. There's a bulletin board with twenty-nine pictures on it. Beside each picture is some very specific and very familiar information. Feel free to examine it. The bulletin board is large enough for plenty of you to gather around and gawk. Don't try to get at it though, that glass in front of it is very thick. If you try to break it, you'll find out the hard way that it's shatterproof. Sorry about that. Perhaps even more of a concern than the glass is the list beside the profiles. It looks like a set of rules. You might want to examine those, though they're not providing much of an explanation for why you're here or how you got here. So relax and get to know your fellow students. You might be stuck here for awhile. |
i am so sorry
[ASHLEY DOES NOT KNOW WHY SHE IS TALKING TO THIS MAN WHO IS VERY TALL AND INCREDIBLY RIPPED LIKE SHE CAN SEE THAT THROUGH THE UNIFORM AND SORT OF CAN'T STOP STARING HOW?]
are you tho
[like 'why are all these women wearing pants'.]
...Can I help you with something? You're staring.
i'm like halfway to sorry
I-I'm not?! [WOW GOOD JOB.] ...I am. Sorry, sorry, I've just never seen someone so! [............] Built?
you couldn't find sorry with a compass and google maps
. . . You're quite forward, aren't you?
[INDECENT]
to be fair i am very bad at map reading
I. Have been told that.
[The staring literally can't stop now. Ashley's face is burning and she cannot stop looking at this British man's rippling muscles, and if this was not the most distressing situation she's ever experienced in her whole life she would be quietly thankful that Josh wasn't here to give her shit for the rest of her life.]
dammit ash this is why we can't have nice things
I can't imagine why. You're--miss Williams, wasn't it? [He'd have to go through all these profiles more carefully later; accurate or not, he'd commit what he could to memory and see about corrections later.]
at least i have you to help me keep my head in the game
Yes, that's me. I- Ashley, that's me. [Slowly looking away from the scar around his neck (what the heck injury makes that kind of scar?) to look to the profiles, but still asking nevertheless:] You are?
let's not lose our heads about the situation
[Was she staring at his neck? From the suspiciously narrowed eyes Ashley was met with, Dio didn't seem to know what earned him that look.]
it'd be a shame if we had to stick our necks out for one another
Sorry! [And very swiftly turning away.] Sorry, I was just, uh. Curious, about you know. Neck.
no subject
[Dio raised a hand--with sharp black nails--to his throat, immediately confused at the sensation of scar tissue under his fingers.]
...what the devil is that?
no subject
A-a scar? I was actually wondering how you got it, but- you remember getting it, right?
[HAVE ALL OF THEM BEEN INJURED AND DON'T REMEMBER IT WHAT THE FUCK]
no subject
[Don't cut yourself on that edgy sarcasm. Dio's hand went to the back of his neck, tracing the thin line that apparently made a perfect circle. Could it have been something left from what happened before he made his way home back in London?]
[No. That was impossible, that wouldn't leave a scar like this.]
Impossible. I didn't have that this morning.
no subject
[But that was a stupid thing to say, Ash understands that now, and she doesn't really want to antagonize him.]
I just meant that- I mean, it's not like that, but I woke up hurt too.
no subject
...And I expect you've no idea how you were injured, either. Is that correct?
no subject
No. Not a clue.
no subject
...hmph. So then it may stand to reason that we may no longer be able to trust even our own memories.
[Dio looked back to the profiles, frowning. One hundred and twenty-one? No human could age that much. Not unless...]
[Would he really have done that and forgotten?]
no subject
I-I don't think it's like that, m-maybe they- when we were out, someone, whoever it was, did something, s-so.
[Is this any more comforting? No. But Ashley wants to be able to trust her memory. The idea that she can't is too paralyzing.]
Something's just...weird...
no subject
'Weird' is a drastic and massive understatement.
no subject
I don't like thinking about either of them.
no subject
no subject