a testament [teddy + charlie]
Sept 5, 2018 0:58:53 GMT -5
Post by shrimp on Sept 5, 2018 0:58:53 GMT -5
c h a r l i e g a r n e t
The screams - she doesn't remember them being as loud, as shrill, as desperate. That day she had been furiously typing on a keyboard, managing environmental factors more complicated than anything she had ever seen. It was a challenge that she met with open arms: a merging of two worlds, architecture that played with the very definition of dimension, inspiration taken from the most unlikely sources. Sound had echoed in the background: a soft cannon-fire, word that the Moreno/Turner alliance had imploded, leaving the two nobodies alive and alone.
But otherwise it was just her and a shifting mirage. Not this. Time speeds forward and back again as she sees Eden Turner dying over and over and over, the patron next to her trying to twist the girl's momentum just enough that she can escape for one more moment.
Charlie's eyes hurt. Her stomach feels as if she's fallen down a rollercoaster for ten minutes straight. This is fascinating - as a programmer she can't help but be amazed at the technicality, as a gamemaker the performative nature is just as inspiring as Cricket Antoinette herself. But still, it's a lot. And if it's a lot for her, well...
Time passes and she leads him, softly but firmly, through one of the doors into a near vacant space. There's older memorabilia here: replicas of Topaz Ross' sleeping bag, or the penny that Aesop Bloom used to propose. In the background, a musty odor that comes with age. She stands next to the victor, shoulder leaning against the door frame as a security guard shoots her a side-eye.
But she doesn't say anything.
The screams - she doesn't remember them being as loud, as shrill, as desperate. That day she had been furiously typing on a keyboard, managing environmental factors more complicated than anything she had ever seen. It was a challenge that she met with open arms: a merging of two worlds, architecture that played with the very definition of dimension, inspiration taken from the most unlikely sources. Sound had echoed in the background: a soft cannon-fire, word that the Moreno/Turner alliance had imploded, leaving the two nobodies alive and alone.
But otherwise it was just her and a shifting mirage. Not this. Time speeds forward and back again as she sees Eden Turner dying over and over and over, the patron next to her trying to twist the girl's momentum just enough that she can escape for one more moment.
Charlie's eyes hurt. Her stomach feels as if she's fallen down a rollercoaster for ten minutes straight. This is fascinating - as a programmer she can't help but be amazed at the technicality, as a gamemaker the performative nature is just as inspiring as Cricket Antoinette herself. But still, it's a lot. And if it's a lot for her, well...
Time passes and she leads him, softly but firmly, through one of the doors into a near vacant space. There's older memorabilia here: replicas of Topaz Ross' sleeping bag, or the penny that Aesop Bloom used to propose. In the background, a musty odor that comes with age. She stands next to the victor, shoulder leaning against the door frame as a security guard shoots her a side-eye.
But she doesn't say anything.