Creative Science- Closed Rp With scientificallystarving
It was a long time before the dark, jet black tears finally stopped falling from her eyes to smear across her face, and longer still before she could bring herself to move from the sizable puddle of ink her arms had created as they drained out onto the dirt around her. Paige didn’t know just how long it took for her to regain control, time wasn't exactly her forte, despite the clock man she so often spent her time with.
She had them. After almost a thousand years, she now knew where she’d come from. Her memories, each and every moment returned to her, clear and more detailed than any of her journals could ever hope to be. Her memories of where she came from, the beginning of her life and everything up to this point were back, and they hurt.
She sat, legs crossed under her, rubbing at her eyes with her inkwell arms, the act only drenching her further as a fresh wave of sobs bubbled to the surface. Lydia, the first person she’d fallen in love with, was dead, murdered by Paiges own overbearing mother. That moment stood out the strongest, repeated over and over, the knife digging into the human’s back, the dull, glazed look in her eyes as she bled out, her light put out in a matter of moments.
Lydia’s eyes were green. Green. That was why. That was why she hated green. That was why...
And her mother. Livre. Page herself had been called Papier. Paper from a book. It was her father’s idea.
They were both dead. Her father had died when she was young, but her mother had lasted the first hundred years of her life. In those hundred years, she had aged, her ink had run out, and Page had held her body in her arms as it decayed into dust, falling apart like her namesake, aged until she simply couldn't stay together.
That was the fate that awaited herself. One day, she too was going to fade away. She wasn't immortal. Long lived, perhaps, but not immortal. She didn’t want to die. Not perminately. She didn't want to die. She didn’t-
No, no stop. This wasn't productive. What was she doing? Where was she, even? Swallowing, shuddering, she pushed her tears back. She couldn't do this, couldn’t sit there and cry her life away. This wasn’t how a teacher behaved. She had to get up, had to find her way back to her students.
Shaking, she stood, hands brushing back her hair. The portal had transported her somewhere, some sort of forest. There was green everywhere, everywhere she looked-
Stop. Find...find a way out. Focus on that later just find your way back.
She started walking, not caring what direction she took, just so long as she was moving. This forest went on for quite a long way, she thought, and even as she listened to the silence about her, she couldn’t hear the more modern aspects of civilization. No airplanes, no cars, no unnatural noises at all. She was a good distance from the closest city, that was for sure.
By the time she wandered into the small clearing, her face and dress were mostly clean, her ink having evaporated like water, exposing her pale skin, too white, more like paper than flesh, and her dress, covered in childlike drawings of oranges, leaves, an apple, a clock, clouds. The only not so innocent drawing on the dress was a stark red design that encircled her throat, the splash of red like blood dripping down the clothing. Slightly off putting, but she’d grown to like the effect.
Here was the first sign of human life she’d seen. A camp. Judging by the recently used firepit, a camp that was likely still in use. She started poking around the tent in the hopes of finding someone who could point her toward town.