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mayfield_rpg2012-04-11 11:53 pm
truffulacide) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-04-11 11:53 pm
Entry tags:
❀ 01
A. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]
[before the Once-ler even opens his eyes, the first thing that immediately occurs to him is how fresh the air is.
even when he's straddling the border between the waking world and his dream world, it's immediately apparent. sleeping, such as it is, isn't easy to accomplish anymore. it's always fitful and restless and not really sleep at all; light napping would be more accurate. once, all he had to do was bury himself under his quilt and concentrate on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to lull himself into unconsciousness. it's a little more difficult now. his breathing isn't so steady anymore; it's hoarse and when he coughs it feels like his throat's splitting apart. the air's too sour and smoggy to inhale without launching into a fit of hacking and spitting, but like most things these days, he's gotten used to it. you didn't even need willpower to force yourself to accept things anymore - all you had to do was give up.
he's lived in the valley long enough for his body to grow accustomed to the air, so naturally it senses that something is very wrong here before his mind even registers the fact. buried under his blanket with his legs sticking out in uncomfortable directions (and wow, did he outgrow his bed or did it somehow shrink?), he yawns and smacks his lips together noisily, a little trickle of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth. he really must've been exhausted because, gosh, he can't remember sleeping this well since - well, since -
since the trees were still -
...wait. waitwaitwaaaait - was it sunny?
the Once-ler's eyes flutter a little before wrenching themselves open completely and he confirms within the rough span of five seconds that, yes, it is sunny and no, he isn't in his room. and this DEFINITELY isn't his bed, it's smells like fresh soap and cotton and it's way too cramped like... like...
what. the. heck.
he slowly turns over on his side and all it takes is the sight of the woman's blond head for him to bolt upright in bed and shriek at the top of his lungs.]
B. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]
[lovely day, ain't it? maybe you're on your way to work. maybe you're a girl scout making your rounds. maybe you're just out for a walk, looking to stretch your legs and take in Mayfield properly before the powers-that-be go nuts and end up putting a damper on what could otherwise be a very nice week.
if you're expecting a relaxing morning, you definitely shouldn't pass 917. really, you shouldn't.]
- Hey!
[this is why.
even if you don't hear it the first time, that single word is repeated with a little more urgency (and a little more whining) until you give in and follow it to the source, which just happens to be the mail slot of this particular house.
the slot is open and a pair of blue eyes are peering out, looking straight at you.]
Yeah, you! Get over here!
[before the Once-ler even opens his eyes, the first thing that immediately occurs to him is how fresh the air is.
even when he's straddling the border between the waking world and his dream world, it's immediately apparent. sleeping, such as it is, isn't easy to accomplish anymore. it's always fitful and restless and not really sleep at all; light napping would be more accurate. once, all he had to do was bury himself under his quilt and concentrate on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to lull himself into unconsciousness. it's a little more difficult now. his breathing isn't so steady anymore; it's hoarse and when he coughs it feels like his throat's splitting apart. the air's too sour and smoggy to inhale without launching into a fit of hacking and spitting, but like most things these days, he's gotten used to it. you didn't even need willpower to force yourself to accept things anymore - all you had to do was give up.
he's lived in the valley long enough for his body to grow accustomed to the air, so naturally it senses that something is very wrong here before his mind even registers the fact. buried under his blanket with his legs sticking out in uncomfortable directions (and wow, did he outgrow his bed or did it somehow shrink?), he yawns and smacks his lips together noisily, a little trickle of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth. he really must've been exhausted because, gosh, he can't remember sleeping this well since - well, since -
since the trees were still -
...wait. waitwaitwaaaait - was it sunny?
the Once-ler's eyes flutter a little before wrenching themselves open completely and he confirms within the rough span of five seconds that, yes, it is sunny and no, he isn't in his room. and this DEFINITELY isn't his bed, it's smells like fresh soap and cotton and it's way too cramped like... like...
what. the. heck.
he slowly turns over on his side and all it takes is the sight of the woman's blond head for him to bolt upright in bed and shriek at the top of his lungs.]
B. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]
[lovely day, ain't it? maybe you're on your way to work. maybe you're a girl scout making your rounds. maybe you're just out for a walk, looking to stretch your legs and take in Mayfield properly before the powers-that-be go nuts and end up putting a damper on what could otherwise be a very nice week.
if you're expecting a relaxing morning, you definitely shouldn't pass 917. really, you shouldn't.]
- Hey!
[this is why.
even if you don't hear it the first time, that single word is repeated with a little more urgency (and a little more whining) until you give in and follow it to the source, which just happens to be the mail slot of this particular house.
the slot is open and a pair of blue eyes are peering out, looking straight at you.]
Yeah, you! Get over here!
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'course I am. Aside from you.
[his hand hangs limply from the slot. it's a depressing sight.]
If you're going to kick it, I'll scratch you.
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Ya might wanna try and back up as far as ya can!
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[that crazy scratching and fumbling you're hearing on the other end is him trying to scootch back as much as he can in an effort to escape whatever madness is going to happen.]
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Alright, now I'm backin' up too! 'Cause the shit I'm about to do is the kinda shit ya can't do without a runnin' start, okay?
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N-No, really, it's fine! You don't have to do any running! It's already halfway out, see?!
[...yeah, no it isn't. give him a break, he's terrified out of his mind.]
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[And with that, Clover slams full-force into the door, hoping to open it, or to get inside in some description, though it's just as likely that she'll pull the door of its hinges.
... That is, if it swings in. If not, this is just going to hurt.]
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the door's hinges, while not entirely sturdy to begin with, make a horrible, shrill shrieking noise before they give out entirely. naturally, this means that the door falls backwards.
guess who it falls on?]
WAAAAH!
[thank you. thanks so much, Clover.]
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Tuh... Terrific...
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[he tris to push it up with his other free, unstuck hand. a big bruise is already starting to form on his forehead.]
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[and up he goes. his hand's stuck in there pretty tightly, so when she pulls upwards, he's forced up to his feet. he gives a painful whine annnd...
lo and behold, it pops out, the force sending him stumbling backwards. that's super strength for you.]
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[... Wait, crap, this might look a bit suspicious, huh? THINK. THINK...] ... Whew, I'm all worn out now! Tired as fuck, man.
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[and he glances down at the door, eyes widening, and all of that shock comes flooding back.]
Who's gonna fix that? [he shoots her a look.] What are you?
1/2
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If this is what happens when kids start eating their vegetables, we might as well just ban them; who knows how many innocent doors we'll save?
[he pauses, placing his hands on his hips and glancing down at the door. he really can't help but cringe and bite his lip.]
...That girl is gonna kill me when she sees this. I don't suppose you can bench-press this back onto its hinges, can you?
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