Difference between revisions of "Syd Lev"
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m (tl;dr : local maenad wanders as they please. More at 11.) |
m (tl;dr : local maenad wanders as they please. More at 11.) |
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=• Early Life •= | =• Early Life •= | ||
− | *a familiar | + | *a familiar dreamy far-off voice trails in from deep a deep echo-ing twist in their mind* |
You remember that feeling you get when you're only ... kinda there... all your processes are running on auto pilot. You know that thing where you're so distracted by whatever inconsequential bullshit is going on that you're just ... floating? | You remember that feeling you get when you're only ... kinda there... all your processes are running on auto pilot. You know that thing where you're so distracted by whatever inconsequential bullshit is going on that you're just ... floating? | ||
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Remember dude, the routine is important, without the routine you're back to: leaving your keys in the pantry, melting your favorite pot holder on the burner, accidentally eating that weird bug you're pretty sure is going to melt your brain, asking yourself how long it's been since you last washed that hoodie... | Remember dude, the routine is important, without the routine you're back to: leaving your keys in the pantry, melting your favorite pot holder on the burner, accidentally eating that weird bug you're pretty sure is going to melt your brain, asking yourself how long it's been since you last washed that hoodie... | ||
− | *the voice | + | *the voice starts to murmur off again as mysteriously as it came* |
Syd had almost forgotten about the bug, almost. They don't really remember much about their life before. They can just remember the day. Not clearly just pieces. Memories and puzzles and riddles to untangle and reorganize. | Syd had almost forgotten about the bug, almost. They don't really remember much about their life before. They can just remember the day. Not clearly just pieces. Memories and puzzles and riddles to untangle and reorganize. | ||
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Their pupils blossom wide-open in the darkness. It's 3 am, they can feel their scrawny arms lifting their too too heavy body from the cushions. Drool slicking the pillow and their face. Their blue hair tangled and mashed in weird directions. Bleary they flail around for the remote on the floor. The television turns off before the dark viscous-looking screen attempts to speak. | Their pupils blossom wide-open in the darkness. It's 3 am, they can feel their scrawny arms lifting their too too heavy body from the cushions. Drool slicking the pillow and their face. Their blue hair tangled and mashed in weird directions. Bleary they flail around for the remote on the floor. The television turns off before the dark viscous-looking screen attempts to speak. | ||
− | They blink, | + | They blink, their vision sharpening and blurring like a novice twisting a camera lens - movements unsteady. |
− | Vaguely aware of their feet | + | Vaguely aware of their feet - dragging their stiff aching legs and cold, tired, protesting body along with them. Exhausted and confused they walk because they don't have the energy to fight it. Their rhythmic plodding is quiet, purposeful; past the park and the 24 hour laundry, not far now. They're absolutely certain they need to get a brain scan and that whatever they ate is probably making them hallucinate. This is all a dream or like a really fucked up cry for help. Had their anxiety gotten that bad? |
− | They shiver in the cold overcast of the bay. Distant sound of cars and the subway's rumble | + | They shiver in the cold overcast of the bay. Distant sound of cars and early morning traffic in the city that never sleeps. Even the subway's rumble is quieter than usual, subdued by the subconscious focus to just keep moving. |
+ | |||
+ | The rough concrete sidewalk is both damp and freezing; their sneakers do fuck-all to keep their toes from going numb. Their conscious focus is so so far away from their surroundings ... they feel like they're moving along and not in control of their own self. Like they are watching this person walk away inside their body... | ||
Until they realize - they're trailing down, down, into the dim, wet, dripping darkness of this curiously labyrinthine sewer. | Until they realize - they're trailing down, down, into the dim, wet, dripping darkness of this curiously labyrinthine sewer. | ||
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''If your character existed in TSW (The Secret World) before coming to SWL (Secret World Legends) -- how do you treat the transition? Are they exactly the same? Did they suffer memory loss? Are they some 'alternate reality' version of themselves?'' | ''If your character existed in TSW (The Secret World) before coming to SWL (Secret World Legends) -- how do you treat the transition? Are they exactly the same? Did they suffer memory loss? Are they some 'alternate reality' version of themselves?'' | ||
− | It's strange to ask, are we aware of the transition? Are they me? or are we just the same? Which is impossible- each instance is different and whoops there I go again. The Mobius Ship - ok ok it was just a | + | It's strange to ask, are we aware of the transition? Are they me? or are we just the same? Which is impossible- each instance is different and whoops there I go again. The Mobius Ship - ok ok it was just a Freudian slip got out of hand - but how does one instance of oneself not influence another? |
Sometimes there is a distant memory - like the faintest whiff of something familiar, a headache with pictures... | Sometimes there is a distant memory - like the faintest whiff of something familiar, a headache with pictures... |