Madotsuki looked at the zippers on the wall with a frown. There were orange legs and arms at the two ends of the different walls, and a purple face above each zipper. She noticed that one of the purple faces occasionally didn’t have a smile, instead it was sometimes a look of horror. On the floor were rows of red numbers. It was hard to navigate in this place even with the Bicycle effect. This world was always much too confusing for her, she figured that she got lost in it long ago.
After trying to find something, she noticed a girl at the other side from her. Another person in her dream world? She had two braids like Madotsuki, and was very thin. She used her bicycle to reach her faster and waved half-heartily when she did.
“Hello… what is your name?” She asked while keeping a tight grip on the bike handlebars.
{ ✘♟✘ }
A turn is immediate, preceding startled expression coming to life on her now-sickly-pale face. I t was not the fact that she could hear and speak now that bothered her (after all, it was a dream), it was the sudden arrival of the stranger that put her off. She had never been known to meet another in her subconscious events.
But her composure is regained steadily, and her mouth parts to release syllables. Low and raspy, as if she hasn’t used her vocal cords in quite a while, or as if she had been without a speck of water for days and days on end.
Rain, she supposes, is far too jittery for her liking.
The pitter patter of liquid upon the ground, upon rooftops suggested the likeliest of notions of the fact that the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Nevertheless, the girl had had an errand to run; the simplistic falling of trembling, annoying liquid was not going to stop her, regardless of how it bothered her so.
Shoulders are soon soaked after the falling of the umbrella is made imminent, clattering upon the ground with a noise she cannot hear. The cold leeches through her sweater and jacket, and lithe fingers are soon bending to grasp the umbrella. But, alas, the dastardly thing is blown away, and she finds herself giving chase.
This wasn’t her dream. It felt off, for whatever reason.
“Excuse me, miss..,” her voice was small and delicate, “Would you happen to know where we are?”
{ ✘♟✘ }
Girl is at a loss for words, content in matter of mute-deafness. However, upon notation of dream -sequence all too recognizable, the language to which she is accustomed becomes evident. Clarity reigns.
A crooked smile makes it’s way to my features as I watch the girl, the way she gingerly begins to place the book on the desktop only for it to slam unto the desktop —- such a reaction causes me to chuckle, and the noise would be produced as a light whirring noise, only if one were to listen closely would they realize that it was a chuckle. A much heftier chuckle escaping my lips as I see the girls reaction to seeing the video playing once more — but this time, rather than a whirring noise coming from the computer, a noise almost identical to the Skull Kid’s from that dastardly game.
I do nothing as I watch the girl stroke through her hair, and it it only when she quiets the flickering screen and drags her mouse to close the document that I make my presence noticeable once more. Within seconds a number of new documents appears on the screen each saying something around the lines of ’「Don’t do that.」’ or ’「Keep watching.」’
{ ✘♟✘ }
A confused squeak is released from parted lips, brushing out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. The frail girl simply stares at the screen for a moment, bewildered and clutching at her chest, until releasing the fabric of her shirt and raiding a hand to guide the mouse. She only rests her palm upon it, allowing herself to read a few of the words.
Already nervous, this new event does nothing to help with her anxiety. The whitened array of documents, she notes, are nothing but an influx of similar messages albeit all on the creepy side. One by one, she begins closing the documents how many of them were there? Twenty? Thirty?
Still, she does not play the video. No, she will not. Instead, she’ll guide her cursor to the small icon for the browser. This was obviously a virus. What she needed was anti-virus software. She’ll just have to find it, and things will be fine.
【✜】 Mucus is thin and dry and none has found itself crowded in her oral anatomy; O can she find more gratefulness in that fact (positive connotation indeed, one to be hated indeed, but she would not spend time on self-loathe for minor emotion that would, eventually, quicker than she’d imagine in unconscious time, pass). She breaks herself from her line of pseudo feast to give none less than simple… breathing room. Eating in such fast pace could work wonders of exhaustion on her she’d thought only Rust were capable of, but such beliefs would be turned slightly from now’s experience.
Parting her jaws as if allusion to her cat effect, she does not come to smell with glands of fiction origin for her human flesh now, but rather envelop the very so immediate area and herself in a yawn but no exact pandiculation. Her neck and head move in time, their perfect synchronicity, and by mere chance but perhaps only the very faintest feeling of activation of own’s sixth sense ― equilibrioception, in variety; dull perception of the gasp which had been admitted from unknown source, no thought process to be triggered in conscious pace ― and her irises, coloured from disease which are of both blood and rust alike on both layers of eye colouring does she see the girl with her feet fixated upon in the position so that she was in the doorway.
An emotion which Sabitsuki cannot recall the last time she had come to feel: Nothing but embarrassment.
Wrappers, boxes, unfinished half way or not, all that surrounded her body which kneeled before the open door of the refrigerator now would be messily shoved into it with utmost haste. Slight colouring of roses’ faintest pink come to dash upon her cheeks, and of course must she feel the sensation of which it rushes and the warmth which lingers upon her; hopefully, though, which could immediately call nothing but stupid, whatever accompanying female youth would not see the pigmentation which invaded upon her skin which usually lacked exactly such.
Standing, she slowly closed the door though loud thud would it emit, and she stares at the steel colouring of the equal material before her. It is under ninety seconds, and therefore, cannot truly be considered a moment, but nonetheless in short due time does she turn around and look upon the other girl.
“… What?”
{ ✘♟✘ }
Indeed, as the white-haired had hoped for, no hint of those blood cells rising just under the skimming of epidermis had been detected. Instead, the frail child had come to stare at the surrounding plastic and cardboard, before turning stony optics to just in time to greet her gaze with a one-worded reply. Quick, easily missed it was, and certainly voiced. Her reply, however? A lethargic shrugging of the shoulders, slow to come, and expressed through the language of unspoken behavioural patterns. Mayhaps it's unsatisfactory to another, but her notebook was not by her side, as her mind hadn’t taken into account the fact that she would be, in fact, interacting with another student.
Still, in light of her earlier thought, she steps from behind the doorway, albeit warily, and posts herself at a fair distance from the girl. Eyes are darting around from cupboard to cupboard, occasionally gifting a glance upon the oddity so as to make sure of her lack of deceit. When she moves, she shuffles rather awkwardly, still remaining at fault for the large gap keeping her safe.
Tiny hands are reaching for various cupboard handles, though not to say she isn't watching. The opening of the various shelves holding food -stuffs is paired with (almost comical, admittedly) frequent, and not at all discreet, glances over the shoulders. But, as unbelievable as it may seem, she was happening to get a full look at every inch of the life-giving substances.
And, already, she was beginning to salivate.
Gross.
A sigh is allowed to pass through lips and, as if retracing all of her steps, she closes the cupboards (again paired with frequentfrequentfrequent glances around) in the order she had opened them- backwards. Why, her desire for food was already returning. Clearly this wasn’t helping her appetite to simply disappear, nor did it sooth her curiosity.
Of course, it’s been seventy-two hours, and nothing of solid conformity had even brushed her lips. But, other than her inability to voice words, and the fact that she was completely against doing such a thing, she wasn’t complaining. Rather, it was her digestive system that was doing all of it.
The dastardly thing had been emitting large, viscous groans at regular intervals upon the hours in which she had fasted. Water, in all the luxurious amounts she had trickled down her esophagus, had been enough to calm its growing distaste for it’s state at first; but the method had soon ceased to be effective, greeting her with the growing pangs of hunger and embarrassing growls.
So, with none of her usual, lazy affection, she had resigned herself to seclusion in the library while she dealt with it. Ha, look at that, her fist days being spent without even trying to initiate some form of interaction with the other students.
She pokes at it, glaring. As if that will do anything.
