Hello! I believe your post said that we would be reaching Brookridge General in about five minutes? Ah, well, the plan was to try and keep the...
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ debate ▣ mood: dizzy ▣ interaction:▣ ooc: ◢ ◤ ♪◢brookridge monorail | nightlife clockwise radiation The doors had shut, and they were all seated together. He took his place near John and Anthony, directly facing a girl he had not seen before. What was her name? It really was funny. They could never get rid of each other, could they? For the past few days Cherno could remember, he had only really known these people. He looked outside towards the window. Night was falling quickly, and the sun was dim below the horizon. And here they were -- those affected by the e-mail, only them, on a train track they were unable to escape from, where their lives were led along fate's path. The car was empty besides this little group of acquaintances. Cherno sighed and turned towards them. He was surrounded by people he did and did not recognize. John sat to his right, and Anthony to his left. Anthony himself seemed rather tired, but John was getting his companion ready to board the train. Another mysterious girl. Cherno assumed she was also affected by the e-mail. It only made sense. He felt relaxed and relieved for once since his sudden loss of memory -- being around all these people. He slumped down on his chair and looked towards his front. Quin sat calmly in her rather ladylike, wise manner, while Harley chatted with the mysterious blonde lady directly in front of Cherno. He widened his eyes. She seemed to be using-- a ... a text-to-speech machine of sorts. Why was that? int logic ( ) { Using a text to speech machine? She was either naturally mute or did not wish to talk. She was very expressive with herself. Someone that expressive would ordinarily want to communicate with their words as well, right? Righty-o! It is clear she is a mute. A mute, huh? Cherno had never met someone who was without their voice before.} She seemed busy in her conversation with Harley, so he decided to greet her later. He looked off to the side and saw Heidi sitting close to an extremely sleepy Altair. At least, Cherno thought of him as sleepy. He seemed very unresponsive in general in the station. The monorail rushed upon its elevated track soundlessly. Outside the window, few houses gave way to more and more dark, looming conifer trees that surrounded the tiny train. Cherno felt helpless, despite being in the borders of Brookridge. Ah. Did John say something? "Memory loss? You must be trying to trick me or something. Well how are you where have I been? Where have you been! I don't see Temperance, are you dating her? Last I saw you two were pretty close." Cherno turned to him. He was able to pick up his amnesia so quickly? Jesus, the guy really was a genius, from what he knew of him. But he mentioned Temperance. Why did he have to do that. Cherno sighed and looked at his feet upon the silvery floor of the monorail car. "Temperance-- we-- we weren't dating, you crazy nut." He ruffled his head through his hair. He-- he had to tell John the truth, right? "Temperance. Well. You know, haha. S--she," It still hurt so much. Cherno held back a gulp. "She ... she isn't able to come back from the hot springs ... if you know what I mean ..."\ There was a lengthy pause of silence. Cherno decided to break it. "Amnesia, eh? You catch on quickly, brother," Cherno said with a devilish, foxlike smile. "That's right. I have amnesia." He turned away from Cherno and looked blankly at the window directly in front of him, laying behind the blonde-haired mute girl. "I have amnesia. In all honesty," "Ever since the hot spring, I have little idea who any of you are, beyond the last ... fifteen days?" "Haha." Cherno's heart felt hollow, and he gazed at the others around him with hollow eyes. It was as if he were not on that monorail at that very moment, riding through the dark sea of despairing, twisted trees, set on a straight track towards only a small light of hope.
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ debate ▣ mood: dizzy ▣ interaction:▣ ooc: ◢ Was ... That voice ... That-- Cherno turned around. Spoiler "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!? God have mercy on your soul because I sure as hell won't. ... J-- He-- Cherno's mouth was agape. ... "John ..." He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. Spoiler Bang. Spoiler "FUCKING PARABOLAS ON A BICYCLE, JOHN. WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU? I WAS SO WORRIED YOU WEREN'T GONNA COME AFTER I MADE A RIGHT DITTY LITTLE BUFFOON OF MYSELF OVER THOSE TEXT MESSAGES!" This felt right. "YOU'RE SUCH A GODFORSAKEN HEATHEN, I SWEAR TO YOU. YOU COULDN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CHRISTMAS AND MICHAELMAS." The words just flowed out of Cherno's mouth. He barely thought about it. "WHAT THE HELL IS WITH YOU, WORRYING ME TO DEATH?" It was as if he had said these words hundreds of times in his past. "NOW COME OVER HERE--" And yet, his memory was blank. It was as if his yells were hollow. Who was John Quincy, and why did Cherno's soul yell out in happiness for meeting this right stranger? "SO I CAN GIVE YOU A HUG, YOU ASSHAT." Dammit all. Cherno was crying again.
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ debate ▣ mood: dizzy ▣ interaction:▣ ooc: ◢ ◤ ♪◢serenade of subways | frontier He heard nothing from John. Was he here? Did he not come after all. Ah. Cherno deserved it. He was a terrible friend, after all. Making John have to text him a million times without reply. And-- and letting Temperance-- ... Ack! What-- Oh. Cherno turned. It was Harley and ... and Quin, right? Ah! His best memory with her, hm-- she was a really good violin player. A very good one. He could remember the serenade. That's right! Those ... those horrible Bach jokes in her gift ... "Hey there." Cherno said, putting on a mask of foxlike joviality. John wasn't here. "Buying your own tickets? Sure thing." Quin had turned to him and asked him about the others. Where did John go? Cherno looked down at his boots momentarily, before glancing around at the few others who were here. Hey. Was that Heidi over there? "Uh," Cherno began. "I'm-- I'm actually not in the best sureness, you dig? People have invited all their little friends as well. I guess my little text spread around, huh?" Cherno chuckled, filling the air with a warm laugh. "It's getting late anywho, friend. Maybe we should all go some place after we look through Brookridge tonight, ya hear?" He scratched his head in contemplation. "I'm-- I'm pretty sure Brookridge has a bunch of nice restaurants. Or we could always just grab some coffee, haha." He felt someone approach him from behind. He held up a finger to Quin, indicating a quick pause, as he turned around to meet the other person. My oh my, it was-- it was Heidi. Right. The young girl. The ... the one ... Temperance mentioned in that letter. Cherno's bandaged hand twitched. "Heidi! H--hey, yo, friend." He snickered and closed his eyes. "Glad to see you came. Oh, and yo, Altair, buddy." Cherno wasn't really fond of Altair being here right now. Something about the man threw him off key, as if he was hiding something. Heidi asked him if he was okay. Goddamn. What happened back in that room? Theodore left him alone. His-- his hand. He glanced at his bandaged hand. It was not in throbbing pain or anything, but it served as memento for his inability to control his temper. Was old Cherno like this? Altair even saw him. Smooth, Cherno, real smooth. "I'm-- I'm fine," Cherno lied. "It's nothing. De nada. Forget about it, friend." He stepped forward a bit. "Did you get your ticket? The monorail will be here soon. There's a bunch by the machine I've paid for, so go get them soon." Where was John? And was he really pulling off a full Cherno like the Cherno all of these people used to remember?
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ debate ▣ mood: dizzy ▣ interaction: ▣ ooc: ◢ ◤ ♪◢letters from the past | hawking's spacetime singularity When Cherno had entered the post office, there had been a few letters waiting for him. Spoiler: The Benefactor To: Cherno Plume Dear Cherno, PIN #90423042 Enclosed is a debit card connected to the bank account of your Benefactor. However, your Benefactor has imposed a limit of a monthly $300,000 only. This should cover expenses regarding your tuition at the Brookridge Academy of Excellence, along with costs for food, education, leisure, and other possible investments. Your Benefactor understands that you were to notify them beforehand about moving to Brookridge. However, your Benefactor already received prior notification, and is now making arrangements. In accordance to the new transfer, your Benefactor has begun the transfer of the items in your possession to the Brookridge Academy of Excellency. All uses of the money provided by your Benefactor must be used in a way deemed suitable by your Benefactor. If your Benefactor finds that the money is used in an unsuitable manner, access to the funds will be immediately terminated. A deal must then be reached with your Benefactor. Thank you, and have a nice day. Your Benefactor Spoiler: Unmarked Letter to Cherno Plume -- This message has been sent to you by the Faculty of Medicine and Pharmaceuticals, Brookridge Academy of Excellency, Dated December 15 Dear Student #9302 Enclosed is a small box that must only be opened when settling into one's room in the Brookridge Academy of Excellency. Evidence of opening the box beforehand will result in immediate termination from the school roster. -- This message has been sent to you by the Faculty of Medicine and Pharmaceuticals, Brookridge Academy of Excellency, Dated December 15 The first letter made him think about what sort of person his Benefactor could be, if he could remember their real self. But the second letter threw him into suspicion. An unopened box? It was a letter from the same people who sent him a copy of Temperance's letter. What was going on? He did not have time to ponder them right now, though. The first letter had still put him in shock. But the very fact he had Temperance's letter so close to his heart was a good thing. A wonderful thing. Did Cherno feel happy, sad, or confused? He had no idea, but as he ran up to the station and saw a few of the others, he called out. He did not immediately recognize some of the others. How could he? He barely remembered what they looked like -- save for Anthony, whom he shot a quick smile. Bing. Ah, they were not here yet. He still was a bit shaky on this "Quin" person, but ah well. Harley, huh? At least it was someone he was able to tell the face of more specifically than in just a few memory tidbits. "I can pay for the tickets, friends." He held up the shiny card that the Benefactor had given him and swiped it into the nearby ticket machine. He typed in the PIN slowly onto the touch screen, and after a few moments, the ticket selection screen popped up. "Are we all here? Grab your tickets guys. We've got to leave soon, probably. The-- the sooner we're on the monorail, the better it'll all be." He was having second thoughts about telling these nigh-strangers about his amnesia. Which ones were his friends and which ones weren't? ... He looked at his phone, currently on sleep. "I--is, is John ... here?"
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (this is a test post). I will fill this with some more Damn Old Man x Crestatia fanfiction or something.
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ debate ▣ mood: frustrated ▣ interaction: tyler ▣ ooc: ◢ Uuuuuugh. Jesus christ. Cherno rubbed his head and opened his eyes. He-- he felt like he had already done this before. What the hell just happened? He had heard and seen Tyreese-- wait, Tyler's-- voice as he entered the room and suddenly the entire world erupted into chaos. He was slumped on the floor, his coat drawn about him like a messy used carpet. His feet were stuck between the toppled table, which pinned his legs down. He groaned and held a hand to his head. His headache got worse, didn't it? Goddamn. His phone was lying on his chest. There was another message from Anthony, but first, Cherno turned to Tyler. "H--hey Tyrone--uh, uh--I mean, Ty--ler. Tyler!" Cherno coughed. He was still trying to get these names right. "I'm dandy-- kind of, I guess-- h-haha. Y--you're pretty happenin' right now, right? Nothing broken?" Of course nothing was broken, you idiot. Tyler looked fine. "What exactly happened anyway? I-- I just, blanked myself out in the diddly, you dig?" But it dawned on Cherno, upon seeing Tyler's confused expressions, that he had no idea of Cherno's amnesia. Wait. Goddammit. Cherno darted his eyes around the small Sealand home. It seemed casual -- relaxed, almost modern. A distinct change from the more ancien surroundings of the neighbourhood. It had occurred to him that he had never been to Tyler's home-- or rather, he had never remembered visiting his home. He turned his gaze back to Tyler's bright stare. "Look, friend. I've got something to explain the happenings of to your jive person, you dig?" Cherno stood up, and pulled the messy jumble that was his coat over his shoulders. "It's-- it's pretty important. I'll be outside. I need to go to the post office in a jiff anywho. Thanks for letting me stay." Cherno stepped over the fallen table carefully. He began to walk towards the room's exit, but in a change of thought, he returned to the table and set it upright before continuing on his way. Reaching the spiffy stained-glass door, he opened it with a swift motion into the frigid, lifeless winds of December, and shut it behind him. He leaned his back against the cold brick wall of Tyler's house, and sighed as he looked onto the empty street, grey with translucent layers of dying frost. He had to tell them all about his lack of memory. After all, the easier and earlier they knew, the better they could help him remember things, right? He gazed around the street, and he realized he did not recognize this part of town at all. Had he even travelled this far in Sealand? Cherno slumped and looked at his bandaged hand. It was-- when was it damaged again? Not the punching of the table. The-- the first scar. Was the scar even there, still? Was it-- it was a diner ... it was on the tip of his tongue. Ugh. This was terrifying. This was terrible. These gaps of memories in his head were like trephinations in his very soul, and its arches collapsed upon the weight of his heavy heart. And what was more -- he couldn't even find the letter that the girl he barely knew had given to him. He really was hopeless. Was there any chance he would be able to remember anything about himself? He looked dimly towards his good hand, which held his phone. Oh. Right. The text message. Cherno clicked it open. There was a reason he was going to the post office today, of course. He needed to deliver a letter to his Benefactor, so they knew that he would be moving out of the house. Well, whatever was left of the house. At least he remembered where that was. His ... Benefactor. He ... He didn't remember ... who that was. Fuck. He could only send the mail to the address, but he couldn't possibly remember the name. Not like they put a real name of theirs on those letters anyway. There was another one as well. From ... from Quin? Wait. His contact list. Now how did she get his number? Oh. She seemed polite enough. Cherno was about to send them. His finger was hovering over the send button on his phone. But something caught his eye. It was an ... an extra folder for text messages? Hold up. What was this? What did Cherno need another folder for, anyway? Cherno sent the messages Quin's and Anthony's way and inquisitively opened the second folder. It was a folder for special messages. And it had two names. ◤ ♪◢theme of remembrance | polaris vector Who the hell was this. Cherno opened the folder and looked through them. Cherno must have either really liked or really hated this person for having a separately dedicated folder to them. And looked. And looked. And looked. And his eyes widened. Oh my god. He-- who-- Who was this? He quickly tried to search up the number with his contact list. ... John? ... That was right. He-- he forgot that he had-- Goddammit. He was such a terrible friend. Fuck. Cherno shakily tried to type a message. Cherno literally was on his knees, his head closely and neatly kept between his arms as he tried to hide away his near-tears from the bitter, biting cold. This couldn't be happening. The amnesia really was this bad. How the hell could he get his memory back already?! Bing. Another text. It was-- it was in the same folder. The second contact. And why did this medicine seller keep popping up? Who is this medicine seller? Wait. Those-- those pills. Cherno left them back at Trembling Mountain. They-- well, he didn't seem to need them, did he? He was fine so far. But what if they were important? Why else would Cherno have this person in his contact list? He opened the message. ... From throughout the neighbouring streets, many could have heard a sharp yell cried out of-- was it joy? Was it anguish? Was it perhaps both, and more? Whatever it was, it made Cherno almost lose his voice from surprise. Spoiler -- This message has been sent to you by the Faculty of Medicine and Pharmaceuticals, Brookridge Academy of Excellency, Dated December 15 Cherno, If you're reading this, things have obviously gone south. I hope you don't hate me for what I decided to do. It was purely to protect you. Apparently, I'm not as strong as either of us thought. You're the strong one, and there was no way I would be able to handle things if you left me forever. I'm sorry for being selfish. For leaving. For choosing to die over fighting this stupid game. It just hurts too much. I wanted to clarify a few things. Please forgive me. I hope this helps. I don't want you to feel bad. You're not talking to me right now, and even though I kept telling you that you're better off hating me and having nothing to do with me, it hurts that you're ignoring my messages. You really were better off without me, but I was better off with you. You saved me when I didn't believe I could save myself. I'll never forget that. By leaving, I'm saving you. I know you have the power to hold out til the end, and if you don't, well I'll be here waiting for you. This game, these rules, I clearly couldn't take it. There's only one reason why I would have died in this game, and that's to allow you to live. I'm too messed up. I never would have lasted. Losing you, being alone, it would have crushed me. If I died, and you're reading this, I promise it wasn't an easy decision. I care about you so much. More than a friend. I appreciate everything you have done for me and will do for me. Maybe you'll never read this. Maybe we'll make it to the end together. Crestatia did say two may win. It could be us, if not then it will at least be you. Be happy. I did this to help. You'll never believe who i'm with right now. Madeline. It's not what you think either. We ran into each other by sheer coincidence for very shameful reasons. I'm on the bus to the resort right now. I hope you're they're. I hope we can talk and survive this game together for awhile. I keep staring at your tumblr page, trying to think of what to tell you. I wish there was a que option for after I'm dead. so that three important words would pop up on your page. I can't say them now, and it hurts. I've never felt like this before, not even with josh. I want to tell you why I'm sick and went to the hospital, but I don't want you to think poorly of me. I know this will sound strange coming from me, but I have a favor to ask. Will you keep an eye on Heidi? You don't know her yet, but I'm sure by the time you get this you'll have already met and taken a shine to her. You like those strange ones. It's not that I necessarily care about her, per se, but if she tried out for cheerleading she can't be too bad. She has been with Altair so far. I don't trust him. Not just because of the curse. There's just, something off about him. I don't know what's wrong with Heidi mentally, but there is something. The girl is crazy and Altair seems almost...devious? please be safe. Try to understand. You're the smartest person I know, after all. Take care, and don't dwell on it too much. Maybe I'll let you peek once I get to the resort..maybe...we'll see. Lol. ;-) please, don't forget about me. I hope you feel the same way I do, or I'll feel silly if this was all for nothing. I know the rules state, no suicides, but I've obviously found a way around that. Good bye, and thank you for saving me. with love, -Temperance<3 -- This message has been sent to you by the Faculty of Medicine and Pharmaceuticals, Brookridge Academy of Excellency, Dated December 15
Full Name: Olivia Toska Suchet (оливия тоска сушзт) Appearance: Here Age: Fifteen Likes: tea | white wine | opera & theatre | classic literature | rain | philosophy | animation | worldwide cultures | westerns | languages & linguistics | poetry | desserts | fencing | tango | martial arts | boxing | mechanical repair | law | animals | detective and mystery stories | orphans | homeless people | mythology | witches | board & video games | umbrellas | dresses | art | her mother and step-father | the mountains Dislikes: coffee | red wine | calculus | arguments | raw meat | excessive sunshine | heat | blood | romance stories | cooking | tight clothing | arrogant people | murder | irresponsible people | puzzles she cannot solve | events beyond her grasp | her father Weaknesses/Fears: heights | eclipses | blood | puzzles she cannot solve | events beyond her grasp | laziness and fatigue | her occasional lapse in memory | tenuous relationship with her father Strengths/Talents: artistic skill | persuasive negotiation skill | fencer | boxer | practitioner of jeet kune do | deduction ability | observational talent | calm under pressure Personality: A student at Brookridge Academy for Excellency, her family is intertwined with the history and development of Brookridge. She reflects a manner of nostalgia -- her etiquette is what one may consider very "ladylike" and "delicate", and she seems to give off an aura of a past Victorian era. She is very calm under a majority of situations, and is extremely effective in hiding her true emotions from others. Despite this, she gives off an aura of pleasant, quiet, and mildly positive, yet melancholic comments -- one could even call it wisdom. However, she is decisive and ambitious, and a practicioner of many systems of defense that she considers integral to her personal philosophy of protecting herself and protecting others while pursuing a truth. Sexuality: Bisexual Contact Information: tumblr Favorite Color: Light Silver-Blue Leitmotif: Here
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ mood: this is ridiculous ▣ interaction: ▣ ooc: filler◢ OOC FILLER 2: Cherno does more stuff with the city dawgsalso known as "you can use these for creative reference in the future for the RP" Since Cherno has nothing to do while he waits for his Cowboy Bebop episodes to load (which he recommends all of you watch if for some reason you have been unable to look at a single episode in the 11 years it has been running in the west you crazy people) he has decided to fool around more with personal exposition opinions. UPDATED MAP ∩(︶▽︶)∩ DISCLAIMER: These are What?'s personal headcanons and really have no bearing on the story I suppose. Unless people wish to treat them as canon. Then okay. You can samba your way into the things. Spoiler: Brookridge Exposition and Conceptual Background Credit to our good friend FuzzyBlueLights for the creation of the concept of Brookridge as a whole, though Jayn was the first one who postulated the idea of a second town (clearly with sinister intentions as we have seen here in the second arc) even if it was a ghetto joke. Vulgar Village, I am looking at you. *adds to map* A view of Brookridge from the higher hills and mountains on the edge of the city. This is the type of proposed landscape around the Academy. As we enter the second arc of 100 DAYS, welcome to the small town of Brookridge, everyone! Brookridge appears to be a bit more different from Coy City. Namely, it is much more suburban and ... empty? I suppose. It is definitely up to the RPers how they may interpret Brookridge, and since it is relatively emptier, being a suburban city, this also gives it more potential for it to be filled with some unique lovely things. Of course, only time through the RP and the little plans will tell of the true nature of all of these settings. Brookridge contains a different atmosphere from its neighbouring Coy City. It is much more tranquil and suburban, less busy, one may even call it a tad elegant. In contrast with Coy City, which is definitely an urban metropolis, Brookridge is a city of nature, and you are never too far from groves of trees and small houses. Brookridge provides an atmosphere of relaxation in contrast with the hectic and worried pace of Coy City life. And personally, I feel that it fits -- the first Arc, which took place in Coy City, was wrought with a hectic and worrying pace by its characters as they tried to cope with life under Crestatia and the e-mail. Unless that little opening was lying to us (I certainly hope not), the change of setting to something more peaceful and tranquil may reflect the mood of the RP as a whole. Where Coy City's First Arc was one of Despair, Brookridge's Second Arc may be one of hope. That being said, it is easy to return to Coy City, or go to Brookridge, what with all of the transportation shenanigans that justify plot convenience. Thank you playing god with Google Maps. Unless of course, this is all a ploy. Or us RPers ruin things somehow by making things even more despair-filled, since this story is very character-driven. Unlike Coy City, which is deftly based on the city of Seattle as a whole, Brookridge is a bit more loosely put together. It is made up of a bunch of communities, incorporated and unincorporated, such as Lynnwood and Woodinville, that lie just east of Seattle, acting as suburbs in its metropolitan area. Taking a look at some of those locations will get you a good idea of what Brookridge's atmosphere is like -- and really, it shares this with much of the northern part of Washington state. Also unlike Coy City, where its landmarks were centered on real-life locations (Bellhurst High being an actual Seattle high school, Galaxy Spire being the Space Needle, the Commerce Centre being the Nordstrom flagship store, the ILP Building being the Smith Tower), Brookridge's headcanon layout has little of that forethought. There is no real Finisterre Avenue, or Bulwark, or Brookridge Academy of Excellency (which is about the size of Stanford, for reference). So what were the inspirations for some of Brookridge's locations and headcanon layout? There were two major ones: The first one is a lesson in modern architecture brought to you by crazy-about-architecture What?. It was American architect Frank Lloyd Wright's concept of Usonia, and his proposed idea of Broadacre City. Wright's philosophy on cities and architecture were that they were rather ugly all clustered together like that. He was someone who preferred architecture in interaction with nature, and Broadacre City was one way he interpreted such a philosophy. To put it simply, it is the advanced suburb -- much of the city is parkland/forest/garden where people have their own properties, farmland, et cetera, and it is broken up by clusters of buildings or set landmarks marking points of the city. If you will look at the map, Brookridge fits this concept to a T -- much of the "city", really an advanced suburb, is rather empty save for islands of development and places of interest, usually around the green points which mark monorail stations. Usonia was simply an architectural philosophy used to reflect the unique qualities of New World American lifestyle, and this is most evident in some of his buildings. Throughout the map of Brookridge, there are many, many references to Frank Lloyd Wright and his buildings. And if you have never heard of the good lad, take a moment to be awed at these structures he developed in the 1930s and onward. Rather modern for something pre-war, no? This ties into Brookridge's second influence -- Seattle itself! Well, another part of it, the part that people who have not seen the insides of Seattle as a proper city think of Seattle. That is, natural and environmentally friendly streets and settings, progressive and liberal politics, educated young people, suburbs and low buildings, mountains, trees, less-than-pleasant weather. Stereotyped Seattle. This even has influences in its people. Seattle, like San Francisco, is thought to be a centre of counterculture, and Brookridge is where all the hipsters, revolutionary students, activists, and subculture/counterculture brothers and sisters hang out drinking coffee. Brookridge marks the presence of the Ishmael Coffee chain of coffee stores, serving as a symbol of this reflection. The idea of this kind of Seattle ties in well with Wright's philosophy of a city interacting with nature -- although the real Seattle was not the case, of course. If anyone has been clicking on Cherno's music selections in his posts recently, you may notice the prevalence of Caravan Palace. I used their whimsical, almost lackadaisical and dreamlike music to represent a few things: how Brookridge seems to be a paradise compared to Coy City's hustle and bustle, how Brookridge gives off an atmosphere of positivity and hope in contrast to Coy City's melancholy, and how Brookridge seems to have a relevancy to the pasts of a few characters from what I have seen so far. Swing music is definitely equivalent to thinking about the pasts, no? Putting it simply, Coy City serves as the "real Seattle", and Brookridge serves as the "Seattle when one thinks of Seattle", or the "dream Seattle". A city of despairing reality and danger lies right next to a tranquil, nigh-paradise of hopeful dreams. What does this mean for the RP? Let us hope it is a good thing. It is hoped that everyone can enjoy their stay in Brookridge in the second arc. Let us all wait together and see what Crestatia has in store for us. Also, please do not be afraid to send images and location ideas to Jayn or myself for adding to the map. (I must be insane to go on about this crazy location exposition like this)
◤ tumblr ▣ logic ▣ debate ▣ mood: unconscious ▣ interaction: ▣ ooc: ◢ Spoiler: Click Here to watch Cherno's Dream Uuuuuugh. Cherno rubbed his head and opened his eyes. Where-- where was he? He-- he didn't ... Wait. What was that boy's name? Tyrone? Tyreese? Oh right, Tyreese. Tyreese was the one who let him stay at his home for a bit, right? It was ... it was coming back to him slowly, somewhat. He guessed. He was-- he was at the station. And Tyreese was there. And Tyreese was able to get him to his house. He had a place to say. It was reassuring to Cherno that some of these people liked him enough to do things like this, even if he did not remember them well. He turned to his side. He was down on a couch, with his large, thick coat draped over himself like a blanket. His eyes were groggy with the waking dew, and his entire body felt lethargic. Cherno groaned. What was that dream about? Memories? Sister? What-- what was this? What were-- what were his dreams trying to say to him? He lifted up his left hand, the one that had the scar -- and, right, it was-- it was the one he injured punching the table. He could feel the stinging pain crawling along his knuckles right now. The hand was bandaged, and he was unable to see the scar. Were the dreams trying to tell him a message? Were they even memories of his past? How could he even determine that? Cherno lifted himself up, and sat slumped onto the couch. Aaaaaaaagh. He was still-- still so tired. He held his good hand to his temple, his mouth formless in drowsiness as he tried to gently push away the lingering soreness of a headache. Where was Tyreese anyway? "Tyreese!" Cherno called out. "Tyreeeeese! Where-- where in gallivanting's name did you run off to, brother!" He inhaled deeply and rested his head on his fist. Wait. What was that on the table? It was a letter, and-- and his phone! Oh my god! Happy day, this was-- this was wonderful! Cherno lunged for his phone and tried to turn it on. A small flash. There! It was on. Someone had charged it! He could finally learn a few more things about ... well, everything! He set it to the side, waiting for it to fully turn on, and picked up the letter. It was addressed to the students of Bellhurst High. He was one of them, right? ◤ ♪◢brookbridge academy of excellency | ascent of cantor's perfect number harmony Spoiler Brookbridge ... Brookbridge? Wasn't that the city nearby? The-- the one just the north. Aaagh. Why was this headache afflicting him so much? Cherno shakily put the letter down. Relocation. Pah. It's not like he even remembered what he did at Bellhurst High. The Academy would give him a chance to start over, right? He knew the Academy was a pretty posh, high-toitin' place. As large as universities. He would be living there, from now on? Hmm. He picked up his phone. The first thing he noticed was a text from ... from, Anthony? Aw. He was a sweet kid. He even kept the bag of gifts. Cherno gently set his phone down to the side and looked back at the letter. A new life. New memories. Could he even regain his old ones? He did not remember ever going to Brookridge. But ... did he, really? He wouldn't know. Coy City held many answers. Could he just abandon it like that? ... Would he even want to remember the memories he had? Cherno sighed and ruffled his good hand through his hair. He had little choice right now. He would attend this fancypants little Academy. Where was Tyreese? He looked back at the letter. Wait. ... Letter. Goddammit. Cherno jumped up and started feeling around his clothing, then jacket, then patting down the couch on his knees. Where did it go. Where did it go? Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot goddammit. As he struggled in quickly and sharply looking around in all directions like a cornered cat, dread began to spread across his face. He-- he couldn't have lost his letter to Temperance, could he? He jumped up. "Yo man Tyreese! Did you see some kind of little old letter anywhere, friend?"
