#flash scene

[charliewykes]

poetry session

"Do you normally talk to yourself, like that?" "What do you mean?" "Most people tend to just keep their reactions to things they do by themselves and their thoughts to themselves, but you don’t…" "If she were right here, right in front of you—would you have sex with her?" Laughs a little… “What…?” "Right here, right now—would you have sex with her?" He let out a light grunt and kicks his chair as hard as he could and rips off his own arm rest. He bangs it like a gavel and gives the therapist a mischievous grin. Just as he seems to begin to point the splintered wood that grin transforms into a frown of profound sadness….

[arambleaway]

Improv D&D Scene

The stars hang heavy from the chandelier. Fiery orbs of massive power and potential and they are strung up in the air like a child's piñata. Their glow should be blinding but the magic dampens them, washing their light a warm orange. It is blasphemy of the highest order in a hall already dripping with it.

The great throne of bone and metal sits atop a dais of polished ruby which steps down and down and down to the white marble floor beneath your feet. To either side of you are great stained glass windows that portray the various harvesting tools and methods of the Star Eaters. Ancient evil that calls stars from the sky, rips bones from living flesh, or pulls life from those unwilling.

It is a horrid sight only to your eyes for the room itself glitters in the low light and seems to hum with power and life. It turns you stomach knowing where that life originated.

You stand in the entry way to this wretched glory, and breathe deep of the stale air, back to the door that locked you in. There is only your breathing in this room. But noise is slowly growing outside. A crescendo is building of thuds, wails, and laughter.

What would you like to do?

[arambleaway]

Improv D&D Scene

The silence of the desert is deafening. The winds stopped hours ago and now there is only the harshness of your own breathing in your ears as you struggle up and down the endless dunes. The sun burns into every inch of you even through what cloth you had brought for protection.

Every limb hangs heavy and your water skein clanks dully against your side, empty of water and holding now only a last mournful amount of blood from the mount that finally gave out on you maybe a day, maybe a week, ago. Your sense of time is bleeding as you move robotically, unceasingly forward.

You have passed the point of no return, but it was never even an option for you anyway. This desert is your tomb or your salvation, and as you trudge forward, it remains unclear which it will be.

What would you like to do?