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 Posted: Mon Jan 23, 2017 1:58 am
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Admitting defeat to the floor was a grave mistake. Sherry would slowly find herself sinking into the piles and piles of junk, suddenly wedged between a broken printer and a vintage typewriter. A lavalamp, still flickering on and off, pinned off one hand.
"Well yeah," Mark scratched the side of his head, "I was trying to get you laid too. I was like oh, if you want to like take a shower, we could take it together, and you were like no, but yes, and then I was like sure, I mean okay, but the cameras thing is weird, did you still like, want that?"
As he spoke, Sherry was being consumed into the bottomless pit further and further and the Death Assistant hadn't quite noticed.
"Wait a minute-"
Good, maybe Mark had finally noticed Sherry sinking-
- "Lucky didn't set you up for this did he?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 23, 2017 5:02 am
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At first, Sherry simply thought the pile was shifting beneath her. She was only half-listening to Mark as she tried to push her self out of the pile. "What? No I'd meant--" Her tired protest was cut off by the realization that not only was she stuck in this damn pile -that was a massively heavy typewriter, good lord- but she was also sinking into it.
The struggle was real. Sherry tried to twist and turn and push her way out of the pile, but dammit the broken printer seemed to be backed up by other heavy stuff. Inanely, Sherry wondered why Mark kept a broken lava-lamp. Didn't that flickering bother him? It was sure annoying her. Though, this was the guy who lived with roaches on him.
"Huh, what?" Sherry realized Mark was still talking. "Who the hell is Lucky? No one sent me, dammit." She had to pause and tried to shift again. "I was here for -guh- you." Her niceness was going to get her killed.
"Mark. Mark!" Was she sounding a little more desperate? Yes, yes it was. "I'm stuck and if I die in here so help me I will haunt you."
The printer pressed down some more, and something with a sharp corner was digging into her hip. She couldn't freaking move and Sherry was suddenly certain that if she became lost in the junk-abyss she'd never be found.
Suddenly feeling very claustrophobic, a little panicky, and pretty sure that Mark was just gonna sit there while his office trash swallowed her whole, Sherry raised her free hand as best as she could, willing her weapon into glaive form. The plan: Summon her weapon and smash s**t, starting with that damn lava lamp.
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Posted: Mon Jan 23, 2017 7:56 pm
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Sherry let her arm fall, feeling rather defeated once again by the futility of it all. She was now out of breath and all she really had to show for it was an arm covered in lava lamp and an even more junk weighing her down.
Stay calm, stay calm. Panic wasn't going to help. Whether he meant to or not, though, Mark's words actually helped take her mind off the terrifying closeness of everything, at least for a moment.
"The Force? I'm not a-" Sherry didn't even bother to finish the sentence. She was going to die here, and Mark wouldn't even notice when she started to stink. One day, years from now, all that would be left of her was some bones, a weapon tablet, a gold ring she couldn't take off, and a bottomless flask filled with wine. If she was lucky they'd find the remains when it came time to clean this room out - if anyone ever dared to.
Her foot jerked in reaction to something touching it. Oh, lord, what was that? Shifting junk? Bugs? It was probably bugs. Sherry tried to move again, and felt her self sinking even more. The bugs would feast on her flesh, she just knew it. Mark was just going to sit there and let her die here, wasn't he? Sherry almost wanted to cry, this was sad and pathetic and the worst possible way she could go. It hurt her pride as much as anything.
Sherry swallowed the beginnings of a sob as she felt something that she was sure was a bug moved against her leg. Of course, if Mark was really going to help her then she'd be fine, but could she trust him to? Probably not. The asshat had just told her to use the Force. That wasn't how this s**t worked, Mark. The Force wasn't real and no one had the power to do any of that s**t.
Unbidden, a vision of gold filled her mind.
"Mark. Mark," she said, trying to shift so she could see him better. ********, she sank more. Sherry took a deep breath to calm herself. Focus, focus. And then she poured every ounce of her fear and will into the need to know. "Mark whatever-the-hell-your-last-name-is, I demand you tell me the truth: Are you going to help me out of this mess before I die?"
She honestly didn't know if what the dragon had told her was true - but if it was then maybe she'd know how much she needed to panic.
Zoobey She can ask him another question later, right? (Mark RP is fun okay. )
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Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2017 11:01 pm
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Way to tug at her heartstrings, Mark. Appeal to her soft side, and all that. Sherry sighed. "No, not even a little." The bugs, Mark. The bugs. Other than the filth he wasn't all bad, though. He'd said he'd not just sit there and let her die, and he'd been rather sweet since then.
"If you ever do decide to shower again feel free to hit me up after, though. We could get drinks and see how things go." She'd said it as a reflex to help smooth things over -she felt being mean okay- , but Sherry was surprised to realize she actually meant it. Oh, god. Maybe she was that desperate, or lonely, or too nice, or just still in a emotional place after thinking she was going to die. Maybe she should just stay in the trash pile forever after all.
But she didn't want to stay in the trash pile, so she wiggled and heaved and slid along - until her let hit was she was assumed was solid ground.
"Finally." A great big breath of relief.
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