trustfelled | Welcome.

The last thing you remember hearing is static.

There were words in there, perhaps, quiet whispers like the rustling of leaves, like the crinkling of paper, like rust being scraped off a knife. The words aren't anything you'll remember, but they're there, and there are a lot of them washing over you, and it might be concerning if it weren't so warm where you're lying.

You wake feeling disoriented, like you've been asleep for a long time.

Of course, it's probably odd that you're waking up just now - perhaps you were in the middle of something important, perhaps you were waiting for something, or maybe you were just going about your day, but even before the whispering came you can clearly remember doing something back home. Can't you? Something else. Something that wasn't looking around the room you've found yourself in.

It's not your room, either. Not the one you're used to.

The room here is grey and white and tile; even if the bed is nice (and the bed is nice, it feels like it's been designed to cater just to you, maybe if you keep your eyes closed you can pretend it's a favor), the room itself is spartan and oppressing. The walls are cracked and the floors are in disrepair, but despite that there's not enough noise - it's silent, the quietness of it pressing in on you, and even if you can't see any cameras you get the distinct feeling that for good or ill, someone is watching over you as you get up.

That might be enough to make you move, to make you not want to stay there. But even if you stick around for a while to look around in there, the walls hold firm despite their decrepit state and the pervasive silence isn't going away - if anyone's in the rooms near you, you can't hear them. If you want answers, you're going to have to leave. Be sure you grab the key sitting on your desk on the way out.

Once you step out of the room into the hallway you'll most likely find yourself face-to-face with other confused people who feel as though they don't belong here either. Maybe you'll find something if you explore together; maybe it's safer in numbers.

Wherever you end up going - and there are several places to go - you might want to check the large room toward the center of the communal area of the building. A subdivided foyer is here; at first glance, it even seems to offer you a look at the outside. Of course, once you've gotten over that particular disappointment, you might want to check out the walls, where you'll find some very interesting information about yourselves hanging on the walls. There's some other framed information that you'll most likely want to get a look at as well, seeing as how it could be the key to escaping this place.

Although, speaking of keys... Despite your best efforts, you won't find any doors. The windows you find here and there are far more durable than they should be as well, and any attempts to break out won't work. It seems you're stuck here for the time being.

Maybe your fellow captives have some thoughts on all of this.

Welcome to Beacon General Hospital.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She seems to wilt, just a little, taking her one arm (the right) around her stomach ]

I don't think lemons are unhealthy, actually.

I mean, if you don't like having teeth, carry the fuck on.

[ . . a gasp and with some confusion: ]

Lemons are bad for your teeth?

[stares]

... Yeah? They are?

... I didn't know that.

[ Huff. ]

I had thought they had nutrients which were good for sailors, to keep them healthier.

I mean, yeah, they have those, too. And if you're dying of fucking scurvy or something you should totally go ahead and eat lemon.

... But, like, the juice of it. Not like it's a fucking orange.

So what is it that makes them bad for teeth?

[ She taps her cheek with her one hand, looking a bit quizzical ]

... [and somehow we ended up with somebody with an 8th grade education teaching people about lemons.]

They're super acidic and that fucks up your enamel and makes your teeth all gross. That's why I always drink lemonade with a straw.