...And also these.

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - Q Nami Natasha Romanoff Nelkeila Tarid Nux Nyssa al Ghul Octavia Blake One Peggy Carter Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève

R - U R. Daneel Olivaw Rapunzel Remy LeBeau Riku Robin Redbreast Rogue Santanico Pandemonium Shawn Hunter Stefan (Alesci) Salvatore Steve "Orion" Rogers Steven Quartz Universe Souji Seta Stiles Stilinski Syeira Tadashi Hamada Tekhetsio

V - Z Vash the Stampede Vima Sunrider Vision (The) Wanda Maximoff Wrath Yamanaka Ino

Comments

Remy LeBeau

[cajunspice]

Upon entering the room and having the door closed behind them the overall feel of the place is that of being home, even if the settings do not fit the home of the viewer. There is still that feeling of warmth, belonging, love, and acceptance that can only exist at home. Through the closed door behind them there is the sound of people moving around, muffled laughter, the smell of coffee being brewed and food cooked, all feeling as it is supposed to be that way. The temperature if on the warmer side, humid and thick, yet not uncomfortable, as if the person had grown up in such an environment.

As people move deeper into the room, possibly to try the second door that is found in the room or to look out of the windows or move closer to the painting, they will come up against an invisible wall of resistance. It is as if the person has run into a sheet of plastic, it moves and stretches if touched, warping the world behind it, yet with enough pressure it can be punctured and let the person past through it…

…Once through the barrier the person will find themselves on the edge of a cliff with a crumbling edge. Leaning over it will show no bottom but the sounds of water breaking against rocks can be heard, as a constant thunderstorm sparks and rumbles in the distance, it set in a permanent red hue. Being in this ‘room’ the person is slammed with fear, nothing slow or lingering to it, they get the full brunt of it that weights down on their limbs and sits hard against their ribcage, pinned around their heart. The stench of gore and blood is mixed with a sharp bite of disinfectant, the main walkway lit harshly with white light as the edges of the walls fall into unexplainable darkness.

There is no sign of any form of exit, just the set of stairs leading down to the barred cell at the end, in which a shadow figure flickers in and out of existence, moving around their small space but been seen as nothing more than a staticy black mass. It is not until the viewer hits the second to bottom stair they feel the barrier again, yet unlike the previous one this one PULLS them back through it without any choice, returning them to the room they had started in. Once again they will have that feeling of being home once they return to it, but now there is an underlying feeling of dread that tries to scratch and break through, as if a monster is pushing at that barrier the viewer now knows is there, wanting to break through and destroy this world as well.


[Link to calibration and room details found HERE. Please view before commenting. Note of 'BARRIER' being shown as blue line in images, shades areas are not accessible.
WARNINGS for generally dark situation, medical experimenting.]

[mucked]

[ a stranger treads here.

peggy carter, lost amidst the mind-rooms of the fleet's fellows, stumbles upon this. at first, it appears innocuous. harmless, really, except that even outside the mind it's likely that a simple room is never quite so simple. peggy paces from one side to the other -- walking the long line across the room's length, and keeping far from the portion that feels less...welcoming.

instead, the glint of a ring catches her eye. with curious fingertips, she scoops up the ring from where it sits. ]

[cajunspice]

[As the knife is pinning the ring it doesn't seem like it can be moved at first, able to be slid up the knife length but catching on the thicker part of the blade. Yet as if it had a mind of it's own, the ring appears to shift through the blade, coming loose so it can be picked up and inspected. The knife remains where it stands, unmoving despite the loss of it's bounty yet has somehow drawn blood from the top of the dresser. It pools around the point of impact, seeping out across the surface and starting to drip down the front of the draws.

A single word comes to mind as she holds the ring; 'Why?'. It is broken, aching, and full of betrayal.]

[mucked]

[ physics defied, she turns the ring over in her palm. and peggy reads the french -- turning old rusty faculties back into motion as she translates the words. quel dommage. she can feel the burgeoning pain in that golden circle, but she can't quite abandon it.

but she can't quite walk away, either. peggy drags a fingertip through the blood. ]

[cajunspice]

Quite a mess, ain't it?

[The voice comes from a figure that could had been missed upon entering the room, it seated on the bed, back against the headboard and feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the bed itself. It appeared more of a shade of a person than a full being, half faded out of existence, the only thing fully visible was a joker style mask the person worn. Despite the mask it is still recognizable as Remy, for those who knew him, in that type of dream sense that made sense despite the fact it shouldn't. A deck of cards is shuffled between his hands, moving from one hand to the other in a smooth transition, occasionally charging with a flare of pinkish orange energy before vanishing again.]

[mucked]

I've cleaned up worse. [ mild -- more deflective than competitive, and said below her breath as she rubs her blood-slick fingertips together. dream-logic is convenient, at times, and so she produces a cream handkerchief from her blazer pocket and wipes her hands clean.

she stays near the dresser, but half-turns her body so she can watch the specter on the bed. ] Are you here to play a game?

[ asking, of course, about the cards. ]

[cajunspice]

Ain't we all in the grand scheme of things, just have to play the cards life deals us. [There is a chuckle as Remy flattened the deck into one palm again, they seeming to vanish from sight as he did so.] If ya wanna get really metaphoric 'bout it all.

[touchofrogue]

[Oh, this is nice. Rogue closes her eyes for a moment, before doing anything... that... that was a good feeling. She hasn't felt like this since...

Okay, that was enough of that. Eyes open now, Rogue moves to inspect the perimeter of the room - after all, them's the rules, and they have been pounded into her. It's a bedroom, that's clear to see... and that feels oddly intrusive, and she'd likely be uncomfortable, if it wasn't for that still all-pervasive feeling of home.

She pauses at the knife pinning the ring of gold - a wedding ring? - to the chest of drawers, but she doesn't reach out to touch it. Not yet. First she needs to make sure she's alone. That's the rule. Clear the room.

She opens up the closet, because it's huge and someone could be in there, but... nope. Oh now that was a nice jacket. She really, really, really wanted to try it on. But Rogue was unfortunately used to denying herself, so she moved on to finish clearing the space.

She gives the photos a lingering glance and actually put her hand on the chair by the work desk as she did. Glancing around the room one more time, it does at least appear to be empty...]

[cajunspice]

[For now the room appears empty and that she has it to herself. A certain joker style mask sits off to the far side of the bed that she stands on, resting neatly on top of the bedding.

For now, everything is still and settled, bar the sounds from outside the door and the occasional hand print that appears on the window.]

[touchofrogue]

[Okay, that mask was just creepy. Ugh. But it didn't appear that there was anyone there... she reached out to touch the Marti Gras beads, maybe inspect the pictures a little more closely when some movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

...was someone at the window?

She approaches it, moving quickly around the bed to confront whatever it was, only to run smack dab into the invisible divide.]

Ugh! What the--

[cajunspice]

Don't touch that. [The mask? Yeah, it was still there, but it was now bein' worn by a ghostly version of Remy, sitting where the mask had been, the glow of his eyes coming through from the eye holes of the mask.] Won't like what ya see. [He had been willing to let her explore, let her see what she found and hopefully get some good memories, especially those beads she almost touched, but not that. Not the barrier.]

[touchofrogue]

[GAAAHAH!

TALKING MASK!

THAT'S NOT CREEPY!

Rogue whirls, eyes wide to face... a ghost.]

...Remy?

[It's the voice, it's the eyes, it's the... really creepy joker mask, ugh.

...though looking at it, she can see New Orleans written all over it. Yeah. Okay. Now she knows where she is.]

[cajunspice]

Rogue. Mind takin' a step back? [It was one thing to let people wander around, pick at pieces of his past he wasn't happy to be on display but was willing to be seen in comparison, but he was going to guard that barrier.]

[redactions]

[ He has a sense of the space, now. The edges — drawn out with hard, clean lines, shaded in the feeling of being home. The room is safe, not overpoweringly so. Just something that's there, like the whisper of the wind, or the rustle of leaves. ]

[ Jim walks forward. The painting catches his attention only long enough to place the art style (post-impressionist) and idly he picks up the playing cards, led and ruled by the sensation to shuffle them as his eyes meet the rosary. He's no praying man, though he's called on God a few times. ]

[ Oddly, he can't seem to lay out a game of Solitaire. The cards just keep shuffling, and his fingers feel warm, with no fire he's ever felt. ]

Hard t'get an ace up your sleeve like this.

[cajunspice]

Ya'd be surprised. [A voice comes from across the room, near the area of the set of draws as a mask sits next to the knife and wedding ring, propped up against the wall as if it is trying to see the rest of the room. As far as Jim can see, he however is still alone in the room.] 've never had a problem, maybe why most don't like to play cards against me.

[redactions]

Never liked to play cards period. [ he grumbles, talking in the mask's general direction as if this were perfectly normal ] Always got myself fleeced at poker. Don't start on bridge.

[cajunspice]

Can give ya some tips once we out of this all, get ya a step ahead of most, 'nless ya playin' against me, then there be no hope for ya.

[redactions]

[ Wryly, ]

Y'cheat, do ya?

[cajunspice]

That all depends, how well 'm doin' in a game, who 'm playin' against, how bored I be, lots of possibilities. The rest of the times, well, Lady Luck likes me. [A chuckle followed as the mask lifted up to a typical height, Remy's form half fading into existence, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.] Then again, only half the experience be the winnin' of the game, the rest is just havin' a damn good time, non?

[unfulfilledpotential]

[After tonight, Shawn swears, he's gonna go easy on himself and try to follow this thing called a proper nighttime routine. The dreams aren't getting any less weird, and you know what? He doesn't like weird. Weird is for TV shows, and movies, and books, not real life.

Still, he's careful as he walks around, not wanting to disturb anyone who might be nearby. The playing cards are what catch his interest first: Shawn moves towards them, reaching out for them as if he'll shuffle another deck. He knows he can't quite pull off Remy's sweet moves, but hey - practice always makes perfect. Except, uh, the cards don't stop shuffling.

Hang on. The cards don't stop shuffling.

He'd yelp, because crap he knows exactly what this means, but he--oh, he goes ahead and tries to pull away anyways.]

I'm sorry, okay? I swear, after this whole thing's over, I'll actually pay attention to what I eat.

[cajunspice]

[There is a deep chuckle at Shawn's words, coming from a mask that lay sitting on the desktop, yet moved as if it was picked up by someone and placed on their face before Remy faded into view, still recognizable as him even with it on in that strange dream-like manner. He reached over, deciding to spare the boy the hassle of needing to keep contact with the cards, taking them from his hands if Shawn's fingers allowed themselves to be pried off them.]

Do I really have to call in questionin' ya normal eatin' habits?

[unfulfilledpotential]

[Shawn's fingers will GLADLY let Remy handle them. Remy knows how to deal with ever-shuffling cards. Shawn the normal Philadelphia boy sure doesn't. Magic isn't part of his world, period. (Well, that he consciously knows about, considering he shares a world with Sabrina Spellman.)]

Nnnnot this time? I hope?

[A nervous laugh.] Usually, when I have weird dreams, it's because I ate something really funny.

[cajunspice]

Well 'pologizes mon ami, don't have 'ny such food sittin' 'round to help counter ya current predicament. Guess ya just goin' to have to tough through this all, or try pinchin' yaself 'nd see if that helps.

[The cards themselves vanished from view as Remy closed his fingers around them and he moved away from the bed to the set of draws across the room, crossed his arms over his chest and rest a hip against the edge of the furniture. He waved a hand at Shawn.] Failin' that workin', guess can more or less make yaself at home since we stuck here.

[unfulfilledpotential]

[Oh thank God. Shawn lets out a sigh of relief as he watches those cards disappear.]

Hey, if you're with me, I think I can tough out anything. [He takes another look around the room, trying to discern what else might catch his eye...] But you know. When in doubt, blame your culinary failures.

[He glances over at the walls of photos, raising an eyebrow at the Mardi Gras beads.] That's a lot of beads you've got.

[cajunspice]

Ah well, I try not to miss a year if I can help it. Biggest party around, back home at least, even more so than New Years. Gotta get all the sin in before ya repent, ya know. [There was a chuckle to match the poor joke he made.]