[center][hr][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjcyLmI4ZWVhNS5UV0Z5ZEdsdUlFTnliMjEzWld4cy4wAAA,/pinraya.regular.png[/img] [b][code]Grand Ridge Academy - Martin's Dorm.[/code][/b] [hider=Interactions.][/hider][hr] The dreams were the worst part. It seemed as if every time that he closed his eyes, he was having another nightmare. For a boy that usually had trouble getting to sleep in general, this was [i]exhausting[/i]. His dreams were not only confusing, they were downright nonsensical. He'd been dreaming of shadows nonstop, but the shadows seemed to have a life of their own. They weren't just where light was being shaded, they were fish darting along the walls and sharp toothed lions pacing over the earth. They would twist around his hands like demented snakes and curl over his fingers. They would tighten over his throat and he'd wake up gasping. They were as real and as physical as him and they wouldn't leave his dreams alone. At times it would feel like there was a mask over his eyes, his vision would blacken completely. This would usually leave him feeling fatigued even though he'd just woken up. The darkness of the room would be [i]too[/i] dark, even for the night time. He'd wake up too suddenly at times and [i]see them[/i], they would be dancing across the ceiling in the low light before disappearing. They were some part of his imagination that seemed very adamant to get his attention. They were starting to give him a headache. Tonight's dream had been the first break that he'd gotten from them in some time, it had been odd nonetheless but at least the only shadows that he'd seen had belonged to the people looking for their dog. Eventually, they found its mutilated corpse and his stomach did twists and turns. It was easy to guess that whatever had gotten to the dog, couldn't have been a good thing for the humans. He wanted them to run, he found himself silently encouraging them to run. It was like watching a horror movie unfold in front of him, except he was a part of it, [i]again[/i]. This time though, he was more like a ghost and in no immediate danger. He was a silent observer to the horror that was quickly becoming their reality. He had never met these people before, he couldn't help wondering how they'd gotten into his dreams. He couldn't do anything to help them but he was content with not putting his neck out again, so he watched and he watched carefully. He tried not to miss a single detail, feeling strangely detached as an observer and not a participant. The word that stuck with him when he'd woken up was the word that seemed most prominent. [i][b]Awakened.[/b][/i] It had been a while since the camping incident and it was hard not to feel like there was something more he could have done. He was the type of guy that [i]usually[/i] acted only for himself but watching everyone around him being targeted had inspired something strange in him. He had found himself wanting to keep them [i]safe[/i]. Strangers, old enemies, and acquaintances alike, he hadn't wanted to see [i]any[/i] of them die. Things had been bad ever since the massacre. He'd been feeling pretty [i]awful[/i] and some sort of [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/33/94/49/339449f31e2201619482cbd16e318da3.jpg]stain[/url] had appeared on his neck. Every time he looked into the mirror, he could see it. It was stark and black, it stood prominently on the side of his neck, stretching from the hollow of his throat and touching the underside of his jaw. It looked as if someone had painted a messy spiral onto his skin. It was the strangest thing, and he'd tried to scrub it off at first. He'd rubbed and rubbed at it until the area had become raw and irritated. He'd even managed to show it to a doctor, he'd been anxious of how she'd react. He was surprised when she didn't react at all. She hadn't [i]seen[/i] anything, it was like it was only there to be seen by him. He wondered if it was some kind of psychological affect of the trauma. Maybe he was just [i]seeing things[/i]. He'd obviously been pretty freaked out, maybe that had manifested into some kind of strange, delusional state. PTSD could cause hallucinations, couldn't it? Perhaps he'd start seeing the axe man at every corner next, maybe he'd go into a full scale meltdown and try to point him out to passerbys. This was the only route that he could see this going. Paranoia had driven him to hide the mark on his neck despite the doctor not seeing it, and luck had made it so his favorite coat had a high collar. It didn't completely conceal it from his view but it [i]did[/i] camouflage it. It was a bit like badly hiding a hickie, [i]not that he'd ever had to do that before[/i]. Nonetheless, nobody had commented on it so far and that was fine. Sometimes being the kid that nobody noticed had its benefits. He adjusted his collar in the mirror, the long black coat hung to about mid-thigh and he'd accented his jeans in a bullet-studded belt. He looked [i]pale[/i], not that it was abnormal for him to look pale, but this was a different kind of pale. He looked [i]drained[/i], like someone had sucked the color out of his cheeks. The sleep deprived bruising under his eyes was darker than ever and his eyes were looking a bit blood shot. He looked like someone who had seen hell and come back from it. At least his shoulder had healed, that was the one good thing to happen to him recently. The hospital had realigned it and he'd been forced into a sling for a few weeks. It hadn't hindered his life too much but it hadn't been pretty to look at. He'd waited fairly long before seeking medical attention and the swelling had taken awhile to go down completely. Now, it was back in comission and seemed to work as well as it always had. He had never realized how much that he took that arm for granted until it was stuck in a sling. It could have been worse though, he'd avoided even a hairline fracture. The whole thing made him very grateful that he hadn't taken an axe through his [i]torso[/i] or [i]head[/i] or [i]any other important body part[/i]. He pulled on one leather boot and then the other, tying them and straightening his shoulders. Fear wouldn't excuse him from life and he had been living by that motto ever since the massacre. He left his dorm with his hands neatly tucked into his coat and his head down. He got maybe three steps out the door before the shriek of the fire alarm filled his ears. [i]Jesus[/i], why couldn't one day go by without something [i]happening?[/i] [/center] [center][hr][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjY2LmE3ODlkNy5RV3hwWVc1aElFRm5kV1Z5YncsLC4wAAAA/quesat.light-demo.png[/img] [b][code]Grand Ridge Academy - Bathroom.[/code][/b] [hider=Interactions][@Surtr Inc][/hider][hr] [i]Explosion[/i]. The tinkling sound of glass hitting the ground. The sound of the fire alarm starting to blare. The sound of water hitting tile. Her hand was frozen, she'd just been about to open the bathroom door when everything went completely awry. Her hand was shaking a little, she tried to steady it but she couldn't. She had been a little jumpy ever since the camping trip but this gave her more than enough reason to be jumpy. She almost didn't want to open it, afraid that she might be hit by a wall of flame. She couldn't [i]feel[/i] any heat emitting from it and surely she would [i]feel[/i] something if the room were on fire. Instinct was urging her to just evacuate the hall altogether but she didn't. She instead stood there, stuck in some kind of idle state as she stared at the door. She pushed herself to act, wrenching the door open. If someone was stuck in there then they'd surely appreciate a helping hand. She prepared herself for extinguishing flame, maybe someone huddled away from it, some sort of horror scene but instead she found Lynette. Mirror shards surrounded her on every side, her reflection in a million little facets. There were small cuts in her flesh, presumably from the mirror. Strangest of all, she was [i]glowing[/i]. It wasn't an all over kind of glow, less like she had gotten too close to a nuclear reactor and more centered between her breasts. It was some kind of symbol, she couldn't really recognize it but it reminded her of something that she might find in a history book. It just seemed [i]ancient[/i]. The whole area was a mess of glass and water, it was practically a hazard zone. If she'd been feeling a little more artistic and a lot less [i]confused[/i] then she might find it beautiful. She stepped carefully across the shards, unhappily aware that heels weren't ideal for traversing shattered glass. Each [i]crunch[/i] of the mirror beneath her heels was stunningly loud. She made her way over to the other girl precariously, carefully she freed the shirt from where it had been discarded amongst glass. After shaking the piece of clothing to hopefully rid it of any slivers, she held it out to Lynette. "[color=8882be]Lynette? Do you need some help?[/color]" Of course she needed some help, the room was covered in shattered glass and it looked like a small bomb had gone off. She couldn't make any connection to what could have caused this. She wanted to explain it realistically somehow but instead she was just getting more and more tangled. There were marker prints on some of the glass, as if someone had scribbled something onto it. "[color=8882be]It looks like this place went to hell in a hand basket, what [i]happened?[/i][/color]" As if it had just occured to her, the worry on her face gave way to a hint of panic. "[color=8882be][i]Lynette, ¡podrías haber sido murió![/i][/color]" The glowing mark on Lynette's chest was just [i]too weird[/i] to mention. It was an elephant in the room that she didn't know if she should acknowledge or not. Something about seeing it was surreal. Unintentionally, she had found her hand clasping over her own wrist to conceal the [url=https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT4eeuBUCgpEnFqU8AABI9JhlpIywCjGPr-Y3d6x6q7G46ooUmHsQ]eye[/url] that marked it. It made her wonder if the two sigils were related somehow. When the eye had appeared on the inside of her wrist, she'd been more than a little freaked out. She had taken careful measure to hide it, opting for long sleeves as much as possible and trying to layer her bracelets. Whatever it was, it wouldn't go away. It was as stable as the tattoo on her ankle. She didn't know where it had come from or if it was even [i]real[/i] but seeing Lynette now was a good indicator that it could be something more and that [i]terrified[/i] her. "[color=8882be]We need to get you out of here, this place is a wreck.[/color]" [hider=Translation][sub]*[i]Lynette, you could have been killed![/i]"[/sub][/hider] [/center]