Jinxer

Happiness

"Damn it!" Rhiannon hissed as she tripped over the rubbish. There was an almighty clatter and clang as her fall distributed various debris across the hall. She trembled as the silence of her prison returned, fearing an assailant appearing from the dark. Nothing occurred and so she focuses on steadying her breathing, slowing it and breathing out more than in as her therapist had taught her.

When she felt ready, she tried to regain some confidence. Her quiet approach was utterly ruined now so she made a show of standing up and brushing herself off, as if she hadn't been trying to sneak through the shadows.

No one came running although she was sure she'd heard a thump, one not caused by herself. Feeling distinctly that there was at least one pair of eyes on her now, Rhiannon forced herself to walk in the most visible part of the hall at a measured pace but with every step her fear-swamped mind picked out assailants and untold horrors in every unmoving shadow.

"That's it!" She shouted suddenly, her voice wavering with fear and frustration. She threw her hands up in exhaustion, trying to make her wrist wound as visible as possible as well as showing her distinct lack of a weapon. She wasn't sure whether she was being watched fir certain but it wouldn't hurt to pretend to be more aware than she was.

"I know someone's there! I've got no weapons and I've got this weird thing on my wrist and I'm scared half to death!" The words tumbled from her mouth, her measured attempt to communicate lost as her fear took the reins for a moment. "If you're the same as me then come on out and let's talk, please?" Her voice was pleading, quiet.

She waited, hands up and starting to feel stupid for talking to no one she could see.

Happiness

"Wish there was a torch in that damn box." Rhiannon shivered as she muttered to herself, arms crossed to try and hug some warmth into her body. The hall, impossibly, seemed colder and danker than 'her' room with little illuminated by the poor lighting. Across the hall she could barely make out another door and was tempted to knock on it but stopped just outside, too afraid to carry through.

"I'll stay quiet for a bit, I guess." She murmured and continued down the hall cautiously. Now that she had calmed down the pain from her wrist was making itself acutely known. The light was too poor to make out what had caused her injury but she had no recollection of it before here. All variety of fears had flooded her mind regarding the nature of her wound: a tracking agent or maybe a hallucinogen of some kind? She shook her head as if trying to free her mind of distracting thoughts.

Further down the hall Rhiannon came across two more doors and hesitated. She hadn't even tried to see if any of them were open, one might have even been the way out for all she knew. Somehow she was reluctant to risk anything that might make her situation worse and she could hear nothing from the outside world. There was no sound of traffic or people no matter how hard she listened so this strange place must have been in the middle of nowhere or sound-proofed; she was unsure which option was more disturbing.

Steeling her resolve, she pushed on but a strange scent pulled her up short. The smell of the detritus littering the floor, which she was becoming accustomed too, was broken up by a waft of salt. It was a smell that reminded her of being at the sea but more potent. Rhiannon moved so that she was in the shadow of the wall rather than the centre of the hall and inched on with her own weapon the water bottle in her hand.

Happiness

My post will be in tomorrow as well - yay time-zones!

Happiness

Rhiannon huddled in the corner of the room, dimly aware that she was almost certainly standing in whatever was causing the room to smell. The room was cold and she wasn't wearing a jumper; just a thin shirt but at least it had long sleeves so she might survive a couple of minutes longer in whatever horror film she had apparently been dropped into. From the moment she had woken up her dormant anxiety and fears burst to the fore and she retreated to a corner to have a minor panic attack, her brain too overloaded to process everything around her at once.

Is this them getting back at me? No, they have no money left and the others are on jail. Karma? Don't be stupid Rhian, you've not earned any bad karma. Well, no less than the next person.

The box in the centre of the room both intrigued and terrified her, the only light in the room eerily highlighting it so that she had difficult focusing on anything else. Still, there wasn't that much else to try and analyse besides the mangy bed and the various smatterings of rubbish around the room. The box would give her a clue as to why she was here and so she crept towards it, expecting a trap or anything else her over-clocked imagination could create.

"Still, can't be worse than it is now." She opened the box and peered inside. The soup and the water inside were welcome sights but gave no clue to the bigger question of why she was here. "Looks like they expect me to feed myself, no guard to bring meals I guess." Rhian found that talking herself through her thoughts helped keep the anxiety at bay; there was no around so she felt no embarrassment and the one-sided conversation.

The bullets in the bag sent her blood-pressure sky-rocketing for a brief moment but the absence of a weapon calmed her down. They weren't expecting her to commit suicide or anything like that, apparently. Whoever 'they' were, that was. Then something buzzed in the box and she found a phone underneath the plastic bag containing the bullets. It had buzzed once. "A text?"

She turned the phone screen on and saw the notification icon: one message. The contents disturbed her but nothing more than anything in this place.

"Find your soulmate? So there's others here then... what the fuck?" She raised the phone to throw it but held back at the last moment, a voice of caution telling her that this phone was probably her ticket out of here one way or another. "Fine, let's play this game." She muttered as she slid the phone into her back pocket, the half plastic heart hanging out slightly. The soup she stowed under the bed but it was so woefully thin that it was clearly visible even from the door.

"Well, here goes." Rhian pushed the door open, water bottle clutched in her left hand and the right unconsciously curled into a fist as she stepped into the barren hallway. She considered calling out but thought better of it, there was no telling who else was here with her, and so started walking cautiously down the hall to the left of her door.

Happiness

I'm still here! Working on a post, I should have it up in a few hours. Very much enjoying everyone's posts so far

Happiness

A belated Merry Christmas to everyone!

Happiness

Name: Rhiannon Jones
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Average height for a woman, thin and toned from a lifestyle of manual labour with skin so pale she looks like a ghost, Rhiannon is someone you take notice of. Her hair is a deep red and long enough to fall past her shoulder blades when let loose although she'll almost always tie it up into a ponytail for practicality's sake. The brightness of her hair nearly washes out the colour of skin, perhaps it might if not for her blue-green eyes which add much needed colour to her ghostly features. She has large irises, giving her an innocent and trusting expression when at rest. Despite her apparent physical fitness, this young woman always seems to be slouching, almost cowering, as if expecting a blow to strike her at any given moment and her movements are furtive; short and quick in a manner designed to avoid attention.

Personality: Rhiannon has a nervous disposition and tends to avoid large crowds or interacting with people she does not know. She has very few safe zones and will not willingly venture out of them where possible. However, when pressed she can be quite the conversationalist demonstrating a quick wit and an enormous capacity for both empathy and sympathy. She will rarely act for others and looks to protect herself first and foremost, a pessimistic attitude that assumes that she will barely be able to do just that.

Backstory: Her story is not overly complicated, nor, sadly, unusual. Born into a family whose other members died during her pre-memory years, Rhiannon was shipped off to a distant branch of her grandparents' descendants who showed little interest in her existence. As far as they were concerned, she was another mouth to feed until she was old enough to be of use in the fields. She received a smattering of basic education, that which she obliged to be given by law, but nothing extra was spent on her learning that could be better invested in the family business which never seemed to be anything but on the verge of bankruptcy.

When she left schooling age, Rhiannon was not given an option for furthering her studies despite her great many academic interests and her apparent capacity to pursue such topics; now she could work full time on the farm and there was not another option given to her. Any mention of interests that did not coincide with her aunt or uncle, or their children for that matter, was enough to earn a physical lesson in obedience. Rhiannon learned from a young age that nothing would come from voicing her concerns, opinions or hopes and so she kept her head down and worked as she was directed to. From the physical labour she gained strength and also a resilience, the result of physical and verbal beatings from her loving family.

Then accidents began to happen. One of her cousins had an unfortunate encounter with one of the farm vehicles and the young girl was blamed and beaten. Two months passed and another apparently drank herself to death, her corpse found in the morning with a death-mask grin on her face. Rhiannon's family blamed her, for she had brought bad luck on them from the beginning, had she not? Of course, they took every opportunity to beat her.

One of the local officials noticed the young woman's bruises, standing out stark against her white skin, despite her 'attempts' to conceal them. By the time she turned twenty, Rhiannon ran the family business with her remaining family too busy standing murder and domestic abuse charges to maintain the farm any longer.

Talents:

Manipulation - Rhiannon knows how to push others' buttons and what character to play to get her way. Years spent under the thumb of an abusive family has corrupted her personality into one which thinks nothing of toying with others' emotions or livelihoods to benefit her own future.

A good listener - She may be manipulative but this young woman can and does care for some people and is willing to sit while another talks away all their troubles, interjecting at moments to ask for details to express sympathy/outrage when required. Thanks to her own troubled life she understands pain and strife and will not judge others for the pasts they have endured.

Other: Rhiannon is bisexual although she has a hard time making any kind of connection with anyone, casual or serious.

Happiness

Character Sheet

Name: Rhiannon Jones
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Average height for a woman, thin and toned from a lifestyle of manual labour with skin so pale she looks like a ghost, Rhiannon is someone you take notice of. Her hair is a deep red and long enough to fall past her shoulder blades when let loose although she'll almost always tie it up into a ponytail for practicality's sake. The brightness of her hair nearly washes out the colour of skin, perhaps it might if not for her blue-green eyes which add much needed colour to her ghostly features. She has large irises, giving her an innocent and trusting expression when at rest. Despite her apparent physical fitness, this young woman always seems to be slouching, almost cowering, as if expecting a blow to strike her at any given moment and her movements are furtive; short and quick in a manner designed to avoid attention.

Personality: Rhiannon has a nervous disposition and tends to avoid large crowds or interacting with people she does not know. She has very few safe zones and will not willingly venture out of them where possible. However, when pressed she can be quite the conversationalist demonstrating a quick wit and an enormous capacity for both empathy and sympathy. She will rarely act for others and looks to protect herself first and foremost, a pessimistic attitude that assumes that she will barely be able to do just that.

Backstory: Her story is not overly complicated, nor, sadly, unusual. Born into a family whose other members died during her pre-memory years, Rhiannon was shipped off to a distant branch of her grandparents' descendants who showed little interest in her existence. As far as they were concerned, she was another mouth to feed until she was old enough to be of use in the fields. She received a smattering of basic education, that which she obliged to be given by law, but nothing extra was spent on her learning that could be better invested in the family business which never seemed to be anything but on the verge of bankruptcy.

When she left schooling age, Rhiannon was not given an option for furthering her studies despite her great many academic interests and her apparent capacity to pursue such topics; now she could work full time on the farm and there was not another option given to her. Any mention of interests that did not coincide with her aunt or uncle, or their children for that matter, was enough to earn a physical lesson in obedience. Rhiannon learned from a young age that nothing would come from voicing her concerns, opinions or hopes and so she kept her head down and worked as she was directed to. From the physical labour she gained strength and also a resilience, the result of physical and verbal beatings from her loving family.

Then accidents began to happen. One of her cousins had an unfortunate encounter with one of the farm vehicles and the young girl was blamed and beaten. Two months passed and another apparently drank herself to death, her corpse found in the morning with a death-mask grin on her face. Rhiannon's family blamed her, for she had brought bad luck on them from the beginning, had she not? Of course, they took every opportunity to beat her.

One of the local officials noticed the young woman's bruises, standing out stark against her white skin, despite her 'attempts' to conceal them. By the time she turned twenty, Rhiannon ran the family business with her remaining family too busy standing murder and domestic abuse charges to maintain the farm any longer.

Talents:

Manipulation - Rhiannon knows how to push others' buttons and what character to play to get her way. Years spent under the thumb of an abusive family has corrupted her personality into one which thinks nothing of toying with others' emotions or livelihoods to benefit her own future.

A good listener - She may be manipulative but this young woman can and does care for some people and is willing to sit while another talks away all their troubles, interjecting at moments to ask for details to express sympathy/outrage when required. Thanks to her own troubled life she understands pain and strife and will not judge others for the pasts they have endured.

Other: Rhiannon is bisexual although she has a hard time making any kind of connection with anyone, casual or serious.

Happiness [A Survival Mystery RP]

Sounds fun. A little like Danganronpa. I'm up for it.

Old Gods: A Tale of Monsters and Men

I think the GM works mostly weekdays so maybe this weekend? (I don't have any actual clue, I'm just positing a theory!)