driftfleet | ...And also these.

Entry tags:

...And also these.

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

Before you post your topcomment, please:
1. Check the first letter of your character's name as its written in our tags. A-M names go to the other post, and N-Z names comment here.
2. Make a note in your topcomment if anything especially triggering or graphic might show up in the Calibration. If you're not sure if something's worth noting or not, we suggest listing it anyway, just to err on the side of caution.
3. Put your character's name (it can be shortened or different from the tag, this time) in the subject of your comment. This will help visitors find you easily, and help us update the list below.
4. Post your comment! It's fine if everyone's Calibrations end up looking and reading very different from one another. As long as you're having fun and following our guidelines, you're good to go. :)
5. If you have any questions or concerns during Calibrations, you are welcome to send them towards the mod team at any time, as always.

ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - Q

Nami

Nux

One

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

Wrath

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She follows his gaze to the door, sees his hesitation. Now she really wants to know what's back there.

But the boy comes first. People always come first. She gives him a warm smile.]

Doesn't everyone?

[no, no, forget about the room! his mood seems to lift a little and he starts scooting his way out from under the bed...]

Nah, some people are weird. I'll play you a song...!

[but the bird starts to protest all of this wiggling, cawing and flapping a wing that sits loose--the boy flinches, trying to get him under controls.] Augh, Crow! You're gonna mess up everything!

[She's not going to forget the door, residually with how hard he's trying to distract her. But she'll let him divert her for the moment.]

Would you like me to hold him, so you can get out from there?

[She offers her hands, but it's not demanding. She's also doing her best not to crack a laugh at the situation. That would probably embarrass the boy.]

Oh! [that seems like a good idea... he holds the bird out, so that she can go ahead and take it from him.] You can actually just shove him under the bed. That's where he goes when he's bad.

[What?

She takes the bird while her brain tries to catch up to that.]

Under the bed? Couldn't he just run out?

[the boy seems to find absolutely nothing wrong about it. once the crow has changed hands, he rubs at a little red scratch on his arm where the bird had managed to nick him. it didn't break the skin, but his paleness makes it extra-noticeable.]

Yeah... Sometimes. But most of the time he's been staying down there when he knows he has to.

[that explained (or not explained, as the case may be), he pads off towards the record player.]

[O-kaay. That's as clear as mud. She looks down at the bird as if to say 'Is this for real?', and then shrugs. Alright.]

Um, okay Mr. Crow. Please stay... under the bed.

[She's done weirder things. She tucks the bird under the bed and drops the blanket down over the side. She'll just keep an eye out for a moment to see if it comes out or not.]

[the bird looks back up at her with disdain... or as much as it can manage, seeing as it has no eyebrows with which to emote.

the thing is, though, that once she tucks the bird under the bed, just before she drops the blanket, she catches a glimpse of another much smaller bird lying still on its side. once the blanket is touching the floor, it strikes a bad chord--because birds don't really lie on their sides unless they're dead.

the boy is busy with his record player. he's clicking a couple of switches, turning a knob, carefully lifting the record off the machine so that he can start it on the other side...]

[She doesn't quite gasp, but she does stiffen with surprise at the sight of the dead bird, before the blanket obstructs her view.

She glances over at the boy, sees he's distracted. So she carefully, quietly labs diem, and lifts the edge of the blanket. She's prepared for the crow to come at her, she just wants to see what is all under there.]

[this can't have been here before. it doesn't make sense, how dark it gets back there, where the wall should be. grass has started to grow up through cracks in the wood floor down here, and it gets thicker and thicker the further back she looks.

she can count six of them. Blackbird, Sparrow, Quail, Woodpecker, Linnet, Falcon. that's what they look like, but those were also their names...

Crow, as he is actually named, ignores her. he shuffles his way back, picks up a little scrap of paper in his beak, and pushes it skillfully into a nest he's been building out of shreds and bits that have fallen in from the outside. some of it has visible writing or symbols peeking out between branches, but it's just out of arm's reach, and Crow is already settling in to roost. besides... the nest gives her a terrible, terrible feeling anyway.

there's a soft crackling sound from the other side of the room, as the needle meets the old vinyl, before a song starts to play...]

[The really really sad thing is she's touched some things before that gave her the worst feelings. She almost tries to reach for the nest, to see if there was something important in it. Because adventurers make the healthiest decisions. The only reason she doesn't is because the music starts playing.

A bit unnerved, she moves out from under the bed, and looks to the boy again.]

What happened to the birds?

[the boy was already turning back to look at her, but... hearing that seems to take something out of him. he looks sad. not avoiding, not guilty--just quietly aware that a very bad thing happened.]

They died. Crow killed them a really long time ago.

[he looks into her face for this one, very honestly.]

I mean, he's dead too, but he kind of keeps coming... back... [it's hard to explain.] ...They're not really birds, sorry. I just... Think it's easier that way.

[Oh.

That puts the whole thing in perspective. She's lost people, to monsters that still haunt her after she put them down. This is just his way of keeping them, and she doesn't fault him for that.

She stands up and goes to the boy. Thinking of how she had never had anyone to really comfort her, or permission to mourn her losses, she puts an arm around his shoulders in a gentle hug. She doesn't intend to impose it upon him long, but she needs to comfort, to help.]

I'm sorry.

[he doesn't pull away from her. he'd been mourning for a long time, but he'd never really had anyone to acknowledge it. when he's on the outside, he pushes it away like it's nothing, but in here?

it means a lot. he ducks his face, tensing up with trying not to get worked up about it, but...]

Thanks. I believe you.

[When she feels him tense, she gives one, small squeeze and lets him go. She doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, or cry. She wouldn't think less of him for the latter, but tears are often a privilege most truly wounded people don't feel they can indulge.

And considering the sensitive topic that she'd stumbled into here with her curious pursuit, she thinks perhaps she should ask before she does anything else.]

This place... is there anything you don't want me to touch or see?

[If he wants his privacy, she'll respect it.]

[that's very nice of her. this one doesn't cry; the boy only stands and takes a deep breath, starting to pull everything back together.]

...Actually, I think... You might be able to help with something.

[this time, he actually points towards the door with the X taped over it.]

The way out is in there, but it's... not good. [he shakes his head, looking very serious for such a young boy.] I don't like letting people in there, because it's... All of the things that no one is supposed to see, you know? All the bad things that only happen when you're tired and upset, I guess. And things just keep...

[he makes this... spinning motion, with his finger. is she following?]

[She nods. She follows.]

How can I help?

[There's no hesitation. She's fine with not good things. She can handle it. Probably.]

[he shakes his head.]

Just go in. You probably won't ruin anything, and that's... more than I can think of most people.

[that's all. she could maybe just... exist without causing him harm.]

I can't go in with you, though. [he holds his wrist, behind his back.] I have to stay out here. Because you'll meet the real me in there, and I'm kind of fake.

If you're here, then you're just as real.

[She says it with confidence, certainty. She believes the innocent one is just as real as whoever is behind the door.

She parts from him, walking over to the door. She doesn't open it just yet though, looking back over her shoulder at the boy.]

Are you sure you want me to go? I could stay a little, if you want.

[he opens his mouth to say something, but her confidence seems to stop it in its tracks. he lets her walk to the door instead, and is still standing there when she looks back. the song, which has been quietly playing this whole time, is probably nearing its end.

but he straightens up a little.] No, I'm okay. I'm actually gonna take a nap.

[which isn't completely true, but he still heads towards the bed and appears to start getting under the covers, for all intents and purposes.]

[She can see there's something behind what he says, but she decides it's probably best to let it go.]

All right then, I'll let you rest. Sleep well, my friend.

[Then she reaches out for the door and opens it. She heads inside, sure she can take whatever comes.]

Goodnight...

[that's the last thing she hears from him before... well, what lies beyond the door is rather imposing. the bathroom, as it turns out to be, is eerily quiet, even though everything in it speaks louder than anything she could have found back in the bedroom.

because the bedroom was messy, yes, but it still seemed like it could be home to a semi-functional human being. this little space, lit with dirty fluorescents, immediately tells another story. this room is insecurity. it's the exhausted crash, it's subconscious loathing, it's every Bad Day they've ever had.

the walls and tile floor look grungy, peeling and chipping away at the edges. there are bottles and boxes of hair dye strewn all over the counter, opened and discarded in frustration. the mirror is cracked and there's a risk of stepping on broken glass if she's not careful. spots of the sink, especially around the drain, have been stained black. the shower curtain is only half-clinging to the pole, and the bath looks dirty and just as stained as the rest. there are gouge marks everywhere, deep and vicious.

and blood, of course. what's a room full of torment if you don't bleed a little?

it's scrawled in a strange vertical language on the walls. there's a red splatter on the mirror, and someone was dripping on the floor. the language becomes clear with distressingly little effort, because everyone knows what these say, and they secretly want to be read--Don't touch me. Go away. Stupid. Worthless. the pointed phrase I hate you is written over and over and over and over.

that's just the part that makes sense, though. some of it rambles, lots of shut up and go away and don't leave me alone scribbled in between longer, rambling sentences--things about 'them' and 'him' and disjointed rhymes about birds. the scratches gets worse near the sink. written above the mirror: why don't you fucking kill yourself. on the floor, tucked in a corner. you're sick you're sick you're sick and nobody likes you.

if she looks back, words have been carved forcefully into the back of the door, and then scratched out by what looks like claws: ~~I am so fucking tired.~~

if she can still keep her head about her, Syeira may notice that some of it has been smeared away in spots, like someone's tried to clean some of it up. the word 'Tek' shows up in black in among the other horrible things an unusual number of times, but that's... probably high on the list of "things to notice" in here.

welcome to the back room. does she still think she can handle it?]

[Damn right, she can hand it. It's really upsetting, makes her furious that the boy she met went through things that would make him have such a place. But she can absolutely handle it.

And her way of doing so is to start trying to clean it up. She picks up the broken bits of mirror, seeing if she can fit them back into place. It won't mend the mirror, but it would be something. Less clutter on the floor. She checks to see if the water works, because she will try to use it to wipe out some of the self hate all over the walls.]

[that's very kind of her. the room echoes just a little, both in sound and in feeling. whoever did all this was frustrated, high-strung, ready to dig back down into old sorrows, but the emotion that permeates the air is just done. they're done with this, done with everything else. done feeling, done hurting, done caring.

the mirror, at least, can be mostly put back together. her own reflection looks back at her, cracked and splintered but otherwise the same. after a second of uneasy burbling in the pipes, the sink spews out vaguely rust-colored water... though that also clears into normal water, if it's allowed to run for a little bit.]

...she won't like you if she sees you, you know...

[...says a voice, echoing like every other sound. yet, she's the only person in the room.]

[When the water runs clean, she actually tears off a bit of her tunic and wets it. With that she'll try to scrub off some of the blood writing. The hopeless expressions, the ones declaring worthlessness. Out, out, damn spots.

And then there's a disembodied voice! Check that box. She glances around, pausing only a moment in her efforts.]

Why not?

Edited (Frickin autocorrect) 2015-11-10 00:22 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject