Welcome to Gaia! ::

Lliote's head spun. He had hit his head hard, but the glowing orbs were getting closer. He couldn't give up now.
[20 steps]

He'd wandered here without meaning to, after leaving the shrine.

He ran his fingertips over the side of the cars, over the rusted-over bolts, and he thought in silence.

Thinking brought with it a measure of resistance, his own head telling him now, in firmer tones after his last visit to the shrine, that this was not a thing he wanted to do.

Thinking was a bad habit.

He wanted something to do with his hands, though, so he kept gingerly touching the seats, the railing; when the car shuddered into motion he started and gripped tightly at the broken restraints. It wasn't enough, though--when the track became blocked and the car jolted off, he was tossed free, the wind knocked out of him.

Pain wasn't really scary, not any more. He crawled, gingerly, back to his feet to try again.

((dice didn't go through :T))

That hazy inevitability he'd felt once before returned. The music seemed, for a second, more real and more immediate as he reached the top of a heap of twisted metal, and he paused with his head cocked to one side, just standing. Unthinking. Unmoving.

He stood for a long time, as stretched as a shadow, all blue-and-gold glow-on-grey, and he put his hands into his pockets.

He'd lost something, at the Wall. Something he hadn't wanted to lose. Where the hollow of apathy had been the gnawing of longing appeared.

Everything was always so complicated.

He stirred himself to action again, maneuvering creakily down the scree of broken swings and over the rickety fence.

Again, the need to touch things. He ran his hand over the doorframe, and then over the shelf nearest the door, watching the accumulated filth slick his fingertips.

In the hollow of the elbow of his outstretched arm there was a dim grey line that had not been there before. He thought little of it, and he stepped onto the floor. It felt shifting and treacherous, and so he nimbly, unthinkingly, darted ahead instead of back to the safety of solid ground. Before he could regret the decision he saw it: something gleaming, golden, in the hollow beneath a shelf.

A reason to keep moving.

He crept along, very slowly. Caution and care-taking felt as natural as scouting ahead. A bit of floor crumbled and when his foot fell through it fell through into an empty space that could have gone forever, for all he knew. He couldn't bring himself to look.

Had to keep going.


(3/25)

(9/25)

The distraction of wondering why he kept feeling at his pockets that only contained the shed bits of Insanity monsters propelled him forward at a slightly accelerated pace, until a warning shudder beneath his feet had him halting once more to consider the way forward. The shelves seemed to stretch through an infinite space. The gleaming thing beneath the dust seemed no closer than it ever had been.