The Aviary - [Literate | O/A]

[Osiris-Lee]

The Host


It had begun. Springtime bit into the mountains, gnawing its way at the snow until all that was left of the frosty carpet were puddles of brown slush, the type that clung to your boots and made car tyres squeal. Mountain flowers were beginning to peek out from the frosty ground, some early risers already bursting into splashes of blues, pinks and yellows. Soon, the entire mountain would be awash with colour and life.

It made The Host smile. They were getting on, now, so the little things in life suddenly became much more important to them. Perched in the highest point of the Aviary – a tower that jutted forth from one of the circular building’s sides, much like an observation desk – they watched as the last of their guests trickled up the driveway towards the waiting valets. Some of their guests brought large enterages. Some came alone, knowing their power alone did not require them to surround themselves with adoring (well-paid) admirers. Some were older, veterans of The Aviary whom The Host had taken a liking to. They came year after year, bet their money and relished in the fact that they were favoured. Most were new, and would not be invited back either because they were rude, or misbehaved or, Heavens forbid, boring. There was nothing The Host loathed more than boring party guests.

They were here to watch The Game, to drink and to gamble their money into his coffers over which poor Runner would meet their demise first. Perhaps they would fight – he had a room set aside for that – or simply hold petty squabbles amongst themselves over whose outfit cost more. Most had arrived and settled into their luxury suits, and were ready to begin. The Game would soon start.

The Host was here to watch them.

[Osiris-Lee]

Arvia el'Douay

The Aviary was not a venue where one chose to be fashionably late. It was the pinnacle of social events, the crème de la crème of invitations, and to be late would be to miss half the fun of it all. Arvia had been so keen that she had arrived the night before the event was due to begin. The idea that this may have been rude circled around her head as her chauffer crept their car up the winding mountain roads, and this was the last thing she wanted to appear. After all, it was well known that if one insulted The Host one would never be invited back to The Aviary again or, worse still, may not be permitted to enter even with an invite. That simply would not do; she’d never be able to live down the shame if she was turned away at the door, it would be social murder. Her friends would ridicule her for months.

It was well past dusk as the headlamps of the car swung into The Aviary’s circular driveway. If Arvia had expected the place to be dark and deserted she was sadly mistaken: lights across the entire building were ablaze, creating the illusion of a glowing dome among the rocky crags. Her door was opened for her by a valet – a young man, possibly younger than herself, who looked entirely awake despite the late hour – and the dim echoing of music played through The Aviary’s lobby as she walked up the red-carpeted stairs. The room was a lavish affair: heavy, burgundy drapes hung from the ceiling to the floors between high-arched windows, and the marble floor was so well polished that Arvia could make out every detail of her appearance with ease. On entrance, one was immediately greeted by the sight of a grand staircase, its wings spreading out in both direction to allow access to the upper levels. Potted plants sat proudly on un-dented, dark wood benches set aside especially for them, and the quiet tinkling of a fountain could be heard. The entire room oozed luxury without being ostentatious, and Arvia marvelled quietly at the delicate balance of opulence and taste.

”The master wishes you welcome,” the valet said, his voice so quiet it was almost a conspirator’s whisper. He turned away, then, leaving perched in her hand an envelope of heavy paper.


”My Dear Ms. el’Douay,
Fret not, we am accustomed to guests being punctual, if not early. Please make yourself at home, as our staff shall cater for your ever whim. We expect the rest of our party to arrive tomorrow morning, and The Game shall commence then. Your room is upstairs, the number an key are enclosed in this envelop, and we invite you to enjoy our hospitality until the morrow.

Yours truly,
Your Host.


Her room was indeed upstairs, in the eastern wing of the giant building. Like the lobby, it was decorated with plush, dark colours and wooden furnishings. A vanity, larger than hers at home, took pride of place on one wide, directly opposite from a thick-mattressed, four-poster bed with arching drapes. The theme for her room was blue – how had The Host known? – mixed with creams and gold trimmings. Her bags were already sitting at the end of her beds, and she spent little time unpacking before falling into bed.

The next morning came with a breath of spring air through her window. She felt no sorrow in waking, as comfortable as she was, and spent a leisurely hour bathing in the deep bath provided for her. By the time she took breakfast in the large dining area one of the maids led her to, it was well into ten o’clock. The other guests would begin arriving at any moment, yet she hardly felt the need to leave her eggs, bacon and salad meal. Greetings could wait.

- - - - -

The Aviary: Dining Hall ---& Eating Breakfast

[Jyenna]

Mattie de’Medici
---Waking up : The Labyrinth

When the hell did the sky become this obnoxious? It was like it had decided, '******** soothing. I feel like burning some goddamn retinas.' Mattie slammed his eyes shut again, willing himself to lose consciousness again. Something pricking the back of his skull sent sharp staples of pin straight through to his eyebrows. It was making it rather difficult to drift back to sleep. Mattie drew in the afforementioned eyebrows, before bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose to ind a brand new stinging pain. His nose was broken. Frowning, Mattie tried to think of what caused that. Either he had some sort of a concussion, or.. Well, no, he usually had one of those anyways. It was just a matter of why or how.

Which reminded him. Why on earth could he see the sky? He should be looking up at a cracked cement ceiling in downtown New York. The sky wasn't nearly as obnoxious there. And where the hell was Marquis? He was usually notorious for fussing over him when he so much as broke a finger. Pfft. Whatever. Mattie was fine. He could take care of himself. It wasn't like he ran off to strange plates and people loaded with C4. Well, not if he could help it at any rate. He usually was better at coming home on time.

Mattie pinched the bridge of his nose a little harder. He needed to focus. He wasn't home. Why? He risked blinking his eyes open, and squinted at the obnoxious sunlight blaring on his face. Red warning flags sounded alarms in his head the more and more he realized just how clear the sky was. There was no way he was in New York City anymore. Why? He didn't remember going out yesterday. That was, yesterday, wasn't it? Mattie brought his wrist up to his line of sight to discover rather irritably that his (quite expensive) wrist watch was gone. There was a bandaid on his under-wrist, though, about where an IV would go. He ripped off the bandaid with a slight cringe and squintted to see the needle marks. Mattie scowled. This was wrong. He was an advocate of drugs, but he never touched needles. Marquis disapproved of them. So the marks in his wrist... weren't made by him?

The hulk of a boy sat forward with a start, ignoring the explosions going on between his ears. Something crinkled. He looked down and saw some light blue stationary neatly pinned to the front of his vest. Snatching it off, he gave it a quick glance:


My dear Mattie de'Medici,
We apologize for the rude circumstances of your arrival, however your participation is not up for questioning. You shall make your way to the centre of our labyrinth and retrieve the item you find there. Once acquired, you shall then make your way back to this spot. Only then shall you be permitted to return to whence you came.

Be fore---

Blahblahblah. Reach the centre. Beat up whoever drugged him. Whatever. However, one could safely say that Mattie's previous situational shock was a hundred times outdone when he reached into his holster and found a spork.

What. The. [********]


-------------
Ambling madlyxxxx
All over the town
The call to armsxx
You liken to a whisper.

[Osiris-Lee]

Zachary Grant

He’d forgotten to shut his curtains again. Without opening his eyes, Zachary groaned quietly to himself at his mishap. His window faced directly towards the rising sun, which meant a face full of sunlight in the morning unless he shut the block-out curtains. He must have forgotten, and he was still far too tired to consider getting out of bed. The only solution, to his sleep addled mind, was to roll over and ignore the offending light source. The fact that his ‘bed’ felt strangely hard on his back, and that his head was aching something shocking, didn’t seem as important as drifting back into the world of nod. Zachary rolled over.

And almost drowned himself, as he rolled straight into a knee-high fountain of water. The shock of cold water smacked into his face, and he inhaled a good measure of the liquid before he shot up on his knees, coughing and spluttering to try and clear his throat. The water in his lungs burnt even after he’d finished gagging, and the man leant against the fountain’s edge for a good few minutes, still half submerged, just letting air re-circulate into his lungs. What the ********. He screwed his eyes shut, pushing his damp hair out of his face before reopening them. One hand came up and wiped the liquid from his face. Alright, it was obvious he wasn’t at home. As strange as his family sometimes was, they never owned a fountain so he couldn’t be home.

Having come back to himself, Zachary slowly glanced around at his surroundings. The sun was creeping higher into the sky – that made it early morning still, he could tell without looking at his watch – and the warmth on his skin hinted that the day may turn out uncomfortably warm. He was in a courtyard of some sort; all four walls were made up of a thick plant, some form of hedge, and the floor was tiled like a patio. Each wall boasted a park bench, wrote iron and sun blistered wooden contraptions, and the only sounds he could make out were the trickling of the fountain and the quiet cheeping of birds. There was nothing like this at home. The air was too clean, and thin, and no matter how hard he strained Zachary couldn’t hear the usual white noise of cars humming along the freeway. The silence was eerie.

His pants were drenched as he slopped his way to the fountain’s edge and eased his way out. He’d skinned his elbows in the fall, spots of blood were appearing, and there would be a large bruise on his right hip later in the day but other than those small details, he was fine. A slight ache in his head and back, but otherwise, alive. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen his soaking clothes, and then paused. His back felt particularly weighty, as though someone had strapped a backpack to him while he’d been sleeping.

”What the… ********] Groping around at his back proved to be a bad idea. His hand came away blood-smeared, and after a few minutes to struggling Zachary managed to unhinge the offending item. It clattered onto the tiles with an deafening sound, breaking the tranquillity. A hatchet. Zachary frowned at it, jamming his bleeding thumb into his mouth and finding a form of comfort in the familiar, coppery tang. He knew he didn’t own a hatchet, not in his apartment, and there was no way he’d leave it lying around unprotected. He’d never strap it to his back, either. It was a stupid thing to do, strapping something like that onto your person. Intent on leaving it there and getting the hell out of there, Zachary shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to leave -

Only to jam his injured finger on an envelope in his pocket.

”s**t, seriously?” He could tell already that the day was going to be awful. Yanking the offending piece of paper from his pocket, the man narrowed his eyes at the words on the page.

Permitted to leave? This had to be a joke, some sick, ******** up sort of joke. Snarling and shoving it back in his pocket, Zachary gingerly picked up the hatchet and turned it over in his palm. However the ******** had brought him here, they were going the hell down as soon as he got to the centre of this place and out again. Maybe with the hatchet, he could just cut his way through.

Zachary Grant was less than impressed.

Labyrinth: Hedge Maze Courtyard – Getting cut and bruised up.

[Osiris-Lee]

Osi is a winnar! : D

+ : Candy Miller : +
“Walk to me, talk to me, handle me right.”
_ _ _ ________________________________________

The staff had arrived almost a week prior to the beginning of The Game. This may have seemed slightly excessive – after all, there had been no-one in The Aviary since the last event – yet the time passed rather quickly. The entire building had to be swept, buffed, vacuumed and washed, even though they’d left it clean, and food had to be stored, new cards and chair ordered. Even if you weren’t part of the groundstaff, you were roped into the cleaning process. Between polishing silver and beating rugs, there were meetings to emphasise guest service and the staff’s varied responsibilities, re-training sessions, and about a thousand other meetings to ensure that The Aviary’s staff provided seven star service to their soon-to arrive guests.

It was positively tedious. It was Candy’s third contract with The Host and she was fairly sure she knew the ropes by now. She might have been a little less than honest in her day to day living, but she knew how to do her job when she was getting decent pay. Dealing was something she was good at, too. Candace was a pretty girl – perhaps not drop dead gorgeous, but soft on the eyes – and she had an easy smile that made her customers open up and chat with her. Relaxed customers meant larger bets, meant higher losses. The more she could charm them, the less they minded.

It was early morning. The guests were arriving today, and she’d been saddled with the morning shift and the late night shift. The morning would be a breeze – with the guests just driving up and getting settled, there was little chance of a crowd in the Casino. Still, you could never be sure when some rich snob would want to waste a little money. On the eastern wall, a large number of wide-screen plasmas sat like a movie screen, flanked by curtains. Each screen was focused on a single person. Most of the subjects were still asleep, sprawled over benches, or under shrubs, around the maze. Two were moving, but going no-where fast. Nearby was propped a giant map of the labyrinth, with each peril or puzzle marked with a small description. Guests had some ability to dictate what happened to the Runners, so this was for their benefit.

Candy paid it no mind. It was better not to think of it. The casino was a large room, full of lounges, a heavy wooden bar and packed to the brim with gambling paraphernalia. There were no pokie machines, no they were too tacky, just old fashioned card games and roulette tables. Standing behind one of the card tables, Candy lazily shuffled one of the house decks and waited for people to arrive.

________________________________________ _ _ _
The Aviary: Casino – Shufflin’ the cards.

[OMG Explosions Hurt]

Something moves within the night
that is not good and is not right.

Jordan Faith Jones
The Labyrinth : Awakening
_____________________________________________________________________________

For a moment, Jordan thought she was dead. The sky above seemed to change in color -- first blue, then gray. As her eyes tried to focus, she realized she had a dull but throbbing headache. "Ughh..." She moaned as she came back into consciousness, silently wondering why she wasn't sleeping in her bed. 'I'm not in my bed!' She gasped and her eyes burst open, eying the sky for a moment before sitting up. The quick movement didn't help her headache and she felt a wincing pain. This had never happened before! Not once had she ever woken up in a strange place. Her thoughts raced and she frantically looked around, hoping for an answer.

Her answer came in the form of a letter carefully placed to her right. The word placed seemed fitting, even before she read the piece of paper. Each line of the letter put more dread into her heart. Jordan's palms began to sweat as she sped through the paper. "This can't be happening..." She said when she finally finished reading. There was no way this was for real. Things like this were purely fantasy! Nothing like this existed in real life. A glance at her surroundings seemed to confirm the bizarre note -- gigantic hedges loomed over and around her. "This is bullshit..." No way this was real. This was a joke, an acid trip, anything! Someone slipped a drug into her drink and she was hallucinating! Her next thought stopped her cold. 'I'm crazy...' She had finally snapped. The death of her father had been too much. There was no way her Mom could afford medication, so they either just let her be (if she was no harm to anyone) or they locked her up in a padded cell. But this seemed too real.

A switchblade lay near the note. Cautiously, Jordan picked it up. It was neither heavy nor light. Nothing fancy, just a regular blade. Her breathing began to quicken as her nerves got the best of her. Hands shaking, Jordan tucked the knife into the front pocket of her jeans. "No, no, no, no, no..." Her voice quaked and she began to crawl backwards, leaving the note on the ground. "Wake up!" She urged herself, holding the sides of her head and closing her eyes like a child afraid of the dark. "This is a dream, this is a dream," It was less of a reminder and more of a wish. Her eyes snapped open in hopes that she would awaken in her bed. No such luck.

A ragged sigh.

'What was it I have to do?' The note. On all fours, she scrambled back to the note and quickly read it again. "I have to get something?" She was kneeling on the ground now, her eyes darted across the paper before her. "What item?" The note didn't say. It just said get to the center, get the item and return to this spot. How was she supposed to get back to this exact spot? What was so treacherous? Who else was in here? What else was in here? The note seemed to mock her with it's lack of information. [******** you," She muttered at the note, at the Host! Who the Hell was the Host? [******** you!" She said, louder than before. Her fear and confusion transformed into anger. [********]

Another ragged sigh.

Her body took over automatically: Folded the note. Put note safely into back pocket. Retrieved switchblade. Removed blade. Tied hair up into ponytail.

One line in the note scared her most of all: We are watching.

_____________________________________________________________________________

[xRian]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxRian was here! No stealies!

Amelia was perched atop a coral colored lawn chair, soaking up some sun. Her hair was rolled up into a simple updo, with enough bobby pins in it to make anyone feel like a pin cushion. Her bangs were draped over one cedalon colored doe eye, perfectly formed to swoop down then back up where it was pinned back as well. Amelia was sipping a mint mojito by the pool side. She saw one of her countless maids crossing the sprawling lawn with a silver platter. She thought this odd. There weren't any drinks on the platter, nor the light salad she had requested. If there was, the maid would be coming from the pool house rather than the mansion. She lifted her over sized sunglasses up and perched them on top of her head, while she arched an eyebrow and sucked in her cheeks a bit. "M'maa-" "Don't stutter! Spit it out, Marie!" Marie took a second to compose herself, before presenting the bombshell with the silver platter. "This came for you, miss." Amelia knew the logo of the Aviary well. It was plain, stiff paper with the logo and her name scrawled across it. Amelia plucked it from the tray and dismissed the maid. She was absolutely thrilled to be invited.

She resisted the urge to leap from her chair and sprint across the lawn to show off to her father. He'd certainly be proud! That simply wouldn't be lady like. Amelia stood up and pulled her sunglasses back down over her wide eyes and began the walk back before deciding to hitch a ride on the golf cart that whizzed past. She found her father, kissed his cheek affectionately, pulled him into a hug, flashed the letter and floated upstairs excitedly. She ordered another helpless maid to lug down her trunks from the attic. She flung open her closet and studied everything. She decided a new wardrobe was in order.

((Man that took forever to write. Goddarnit my roleplaying skills are rusty. x_x She'll make her way to the aviary in the next post. <3))

[Jyenna]

Isaiah Sterling
The Aviary Screening Room --- Being a dickwad.


Isaiah just loved showing up late. There was something about every eye in the room turning towards him, realizing who he was, and quickly avoiding contact. Hell, the whole ritual practically smelt like victory. He had two of his handymen drive him under the knowledge that if anything should happen to Isaiah or his car, certain unfortunate videos would be gracing Youtube with their presence. He half expected the nimwits to bring his Camorra back freshly waxed. What a world.

The Aviary was by no means a place to show up late, but no one dared to question Isaiah on the matter. Not if they valued their dignity. Plus, everyone practically knew that he was probably only invited because of some hold he had on The Host. Truth be told, Isaiah didn’t know who the host was more than anyone else. But he’d made damn sure to request the kidnapping of one Mattie de’Medici. It was all in reputation. That kid got the closest anyone has ever gotten to taking down the great Isaiah Sterling, and now had two hefty scars on his hands to show for it. Never mind that the brat was fourteen at the time—a scar was a scar. Especially when the brat turned into a notorious gangster. And really, this only bolstered the paranoia concerning Isaiah.

So logically, having him kidnapped (and who knows, maybe he’d finally kill him) was just another step to re-pronounce his recently more forgotten notoriety. Glancing around hall, Isaiah spotted the drink counter, the windows, and the screens. Isaiah’s pronounced, almost limping walk made an odd squelching sound against the polished flooring as he dragged himself nearer to the screens.

“Ah, he’s up.” Isaiah sneered, watching Mattie’s horrified expression slowly morph into confusion. Though, this wouldn’t be quite as impressive a feat if he didn’t have his usual slu—er. Lady.

“Loraine! Where the hell are you, woman?” His greasy voice scratched at the edges of the room. “You’ve gotta see this kid’s face! He’s got a spork!”

[xRian]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxvvvvvvvvvxxxxxxx

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxRian was here! No stealies!

Loraine was waiting impatiently at the bar. She tapped her foot in annoyance while waiting for the bartender to whip up a few green fairies. Loraine watched the bartender through narrowed eyes as he poured in the absinthe. She knew Isaiah would be arriving within moments, if he wasn't here already. Loraine simply wanted to grab the absinthe out of the bartender's hands and mix it herself. God, he was taking forever. She downed one of the shots he presented her with before taking one in each hand and stalking off to find Isaiah when the bartender finally finished. She didn't care if it was 10 AM. In the words of Jimmy Buffet, it's 5 o'clock somewhere. That song had played countless times at the tiki-themed casino her mama used to dance at. Margaritas & Daiquiris were a plenty. Like Vegas, Loraine had rejected those fruity drinks and has taken a liking towards harder liquid. The green fairies had a nice kick to them that would ease even the dullest of headaches. Advil never worked quick enough, and midol didn't even work in the first place. Loraine loves her alcohol like nobody's business. It helps her forget how ugly Isaiah is, but whatever...She takes pride in being his lady.

Loraine strolled lazily out of the room and headed off to find Isaiah. She slunk into the room where the guests were, and he was there. The limping greaseball with that yellow grin. "Oh, Honey I'm so glad you made it!" She smirked a bit and straightened up, and stuck out her chest. She had made sure her bow was extra big and her feathers were perfectly fluffy that morning. Her hair was perfect and her makeup was flawless, as always. She slid a shot glass into his hand and took her spot next to him, looking up at the monitor. "A spork, eh?"
[[Gettin' off. </3]]

[Osiris-Lee]

Osi is a winnar! : D

+ : Candy Miller : +
“Walk to me, talk to me, handle me right.”
_ _ _ ________________________________________

Loraine’s impatience was almost palpable. Even from her position across the room, her back to the bar, Candy could feel the other woman’s presence as though she was standing next to her. At the bar at ten in the morning; some people were born beyond help. Between her deft fingers the playing cards slowly, carefully bent into graceful curves before suddenly snapping loose, landing neatly in her outstretched hand. Now, it wasn’t that Candy didn’t like a drink as much as the next person, but at this hour? Really? Then again, Loraine was a showgirl: they lacked a little element called class.

That, coming from Candy who had spent several years as something of a gold-digger, was a hefty insult. Still, she kept her gab shut and split the deck, shuffling for the sake of keeping her fingers busy. Her left foot was cramping, so she eased the heel up and down in a rhythm that would have become annoying, were one standing next to her. It wasn’t her place to judge the other staff, or the guests, but she had to feel sorry for the green bartender mixing Loraine’s drink. The guy had practically stammered his way through the first week of staff meetings, and looked small and thin in his burgundy vest. It wasn’t her place to judge the guests, but Candy had to wonder… why the hell was Isaiah even invited to this place to begin with? Compared to Loraine, Isaiah was obviously gutter trash. He fondled the maids, got drunk off wine at all hours of the day and left his room – so she’d heard – looking like an entire football team had been staying there a month.

That, and his breath smelt of death. Candy had the pleasure of finding that out at the last party this place had held. If she had to guess, The Host simply kept him around for entertainment purposes. If anyone was going to start grating on people’s nerves, it would be Isaiah and The Host was known to invite the most uncomplimentary people without prompting. A sick sense of humour, perhaps.

They’d likely never know. The couple was in front of the screens, now, and Candy entertained the notion of going over there to see if Isaiah was going to place a bet. It was really too early for that, and she didn’t want to get close to him unless she had to, so she simply leant over the table and peered at the television they were concentrating on.

”Not quite as funny as the guy last time. He got stuck with a rubber chicken.” She just had to speak up. It was in her nature to open her mouth when it wasn’t really worth it, but she was bored. Very bored. Hopefully the nightshift would be more entertaining.

________________________________________ _ _ _
The Aviary: Casino – Avoiding Isaiah's bad breath.

[Jyenna]

Isaiah Sterling
The Aviary Screening Room/Casino --- Still being a dickwad.


Isaiah wrung his hands, pressing on the tense knuckle muscles and cracking them with a sickly pop. Ahh. Nothing quite like feeling the fluid run free through your bones. He smacked his lips loudly, and eyed Loraine’s a**. The feathers were a nice touch, but he wouldn’t mind if they were gone either. He smirked, aware that he was staring. He slowly slid his eyes appreciatively up the her face (pausing at the good parts, of course). Then he promptly looked right back down at the shot glass she handed him.

“Perfect, my lovely,” He slurred, downing the hard liquor. He slid his arm none-too-subtly to an area slightly lower than the girl’s waist. Mm. The feathers could stay. He snapped his attention back to the screen, once she’d mentioned it, though. He could ‘appreciate’ Loraine later. Right now he wanted to see the brat get squashed. Maybe he’d get some new scars.

“Yeah, a spork. Not so good a shooter anymore, eh?” Isaiah laughed as if he’d just said the funniest thing on the planet. And of course, he had. He was Isaiah Sterling. All of his jokes were the best. He glanced back at whoever had said something about someone unimportant haing something to do with a chicken. Isaiah would’ve ignored this irrelevant statement. He was here to see Mattie die. He wasn’t all too concerned with anything else. Well, except that one maid, and Loraine. Perhaps he would’ve ignored that statement if it hadn’t been for who stated it.

“Why, helloooo, sweetheart. Just couldn’t resist little old me, eh?” Isaiah sneered, showing off a broad set of yellowish brown teeth. Couldn’t have been more charming if he tried. He pointed at the screen he as watching. “You heard of that kid there? Nah, ‘course you haven’t you sweet little thing. He’s a nasty criminal, and I personally put those scars in his hands.”

Nothing like a story of heroism to win over the ladies.

[Osiris-Lee]

The Host


The sky was indeed, blue. The silence of the labyrinth crept around, carefully blanketing it’s runners with a false comfort. A slow rumble started shaking the very foundations of the labyrinth, sending vibrations through the pale tiles. The walls began to shake violently, the weaker ones just spraying the rock they were made of in any number or directions. The stronger ones however, began to move, pivot, or just flat out fall over. Needless to say, the path to the center changed.

[Jyenna]

Mattie de’Medici
---Being just oh-so-sweet: The Labyrinth


Mattie was just getting over the spork (it was plastic! And where were his guns, then?!) when a chunk of flagstone hit him square in the shoulder blades. Ow. What the hell? Who was thowing—

Mattie turned around, and just narrowly missed another block of flagstone as it skimmed his cheek leaving a nasty scrape. The wall he was looking at seemed to be self-destructing. On instinct, Mattie ran. But the walls seemed to be shifting around his as he ran. Maybe he was just imagining it, but.. no. They were definitely moving. s**t, this was bad. He looked behind himself briefly to see that the pathway he’d just run from was now closed off. What the ********? When did walls start moving? And how the hell was he supposed to defend himself with a spork?

BAM.

A wall crashed down behind him, shaking the ground more than it already was. s**t. Mattie’s run turned into a sprint. He dodged pieces of shrapnel left and right, slowly forming a begrudging respect for Marquis’ natural agility. Moving that fast was hard.

He spotted someone a few shifting walls away, and squinted to try and make out facial features. The closer he got to the dark haired figure, he noticed how unstable the wall behind him looked. It was going to fall on him. s**t, Mattie cursed again in his mind. Whoever it was, was gunna die unless he did something about it. Gah. He hated idiots. Especially stationary ones.

Mattie flat out tackled the poor sod, throwing him back a few feet, before he got up and kept running. Sure, he may have saved the dweeb’s life, but he sure as hell wasn’t sticking around for the mushy “oh THANK you”’s. He’d done his good deed for the year. Now he was allowed to be a jackass, again.

((I have permission to bowl over Zach. No worries. xD))


-------------
Ambling madlyxxxx
All over the town
The call to armsxx
You liken to a whisper.

[Osiris-Lee]

Zachary Grant

Aside from tugging himself free of the fountain, Zachary hadn’t moved from his spot in the courtyard. There was little inclination for him to move, considering he had no idea where he was. His initial reaction to stay was due to the well beaten fact his mother had made sure was in his little mind: If you’re lost, stay put. After all, you could only become more lost. He wasn’t sure if the rule really applied to this situation – the lack of traffic made it official; he wasn’t in New York anymore , and he couldn’t get anymore lost - yet the instinct remained. So he examined his surroundings more closely.

The hedge surrounding his courtyard was the dense type. With thorns, he noted dourly after pushing his hands into the shrubbery and emerging with yelps and scrapes. Throwing the hatchet only resulted in getting it stuck in the growth and him spending the next five minutes tugging it loose again, only to fall on his behind for his efforts. No, cutting down the hedge maze wasn’t going to work. How annoying. The courtyard had little else to offer in the way of help. The thought that something on the fountain might open a secret passage crossed Zachary’s mind, but he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted to test out. Knowing his luck, he’d somehow trigger some sort of trash disposal that would open the bottom of the fountain and reveal some sort of compactor that would rip him to shreds. Perhaps his imagination was overactive, but perhaps he was just making excuses not to get into that fountain again. After all, tweaking the cherub penises that were peeing water didn’t sound all that attractive of an option, either.

So he stayed put, tapping the hatchet against his hand. He’d wait an hour, he decided. If no-one came by in that time, then he’d start exploring. The note he’d received had given him no idea on just how big this labyrinth was, so for all Zach knew this ‘Game’ could all be over within an hour. If that was the case, then there was no real reason for him to move, right? Right. It was perfectly logical. Until the sounds began. At first they were quiet, in the distance and reminiscent of gentle thunder. Minutes passed, and the sound grew harsh and louder, like cars scraping against each other. The floor tremored a little, and Zach frowned. He had no idea what an earthquake felt like, but if he had to guess …

There was no time for guessing. With no time to react to the sudden sound of footsteps, Zachary found himself shoved towards the ground with a heavy weight on top of him. With the body pressing into his back and the hatchet now dangerously close to puncturing his stomach, the sound of stone shifting and falling was something of a distant thought. And then it was over, as soon as it had started, and by the time Zachary had peeled his face off the cobble-stone pavement the figure who had tackled him was already sprinting away. His hands shook a little as he moved onto his hands and knees, glancing behind him. Where he’d been standing, a hefty pile of rubble had fallen that would surely have broken bones, if not taken his life. A long, slow exhale left his lips. This certainly killed the ‘wait an hour plan’.

Was that guy Mattie? Another frown, and Zachary glanced down the path the man had sprinted down. He and Mattie de’Medici were definitely not friends, yet they saw each other enough for Zachary to know him on sight. From behind, not so well, but if he was making bets…

Whatever the case, Zachary certainly wasn’t going after him. He and Mattie’s relationship was strained, to put it mildly, and if he had to get to the middle of a maze he was pretty damn sure that sticking around Mattie would ruin his chances. He turned on his heel sharply, stalking off in the opposite direction and picking his way over the rubble. One of the doors of the courtyard was still in tact and it was this one he took.

For a long time he encountered nothing. Once or twice he had to jump clear of a wall that just happened to want to crush him, but otherwise the walk was monotonous. Walls of bricks and hedge did little for stimulation, so Zachary almost plunged straight into a large lake when he turned a corner.

A second dunking was not what he wanted.

Labyrinth: Hedge Maze Courtyard –> Siren's Lake - Being pushed to the ground, turned around and avoiding a second dunking