QUIET MOUNDS - STEF HEART

[abardacttofollow]

You find yourself in a stone room that looks like some sort of medieval dungeon. There are (thankfully), no torture instruments, but there is a man strung up here. One large manacle is around his neck, chaining him stiffly to the door. His hands are free, but each foot is manacled to the matching bottom corner of the doorframe. There is a visible lock on each of the three manacles.

It's Stefen, and there's a knife in his chest. Despite that, he's alive, apparently alert, and doesn't look to be in pain, perhaps due to the lulling, sense-dulling music that seems to be coming from nowhere at all—in fact, if you were in pain before you entered, it's gone here. His wound is bleeding, but only a little, and he smiles his usual bright smile at you.

Behind him, but in front of the closed door he's bound to, you can see three double sets of strings running vertically. Where they meet the floor, they are fastened, and then each runs across the floor to the three doors on the opposite wall, then under them.

There is nothing else in this room.

((OOC: Here's how this will work! Since we're doing individual runs, rather than me putting up individual top levels for areas, just jump the post itself, and I'll run everything for you within your one thread. If you're wanting to do a run with someone else, just stay in the same thread together.))

Comments

Re: Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

He nods, fingers grabbing lightly onto the old woman's sleeve.

Re: Composition 1

[ahorseforgood]

:I'm glad to hear that. Everyone should have a place they can at least go for a while.:

[nods to them and sees if she can't step behind one of those sets...]

Re: Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

You can't. This seems to be the limit of the heart's area.

Re: Composition 1

[ahorseforgood]

[time to see if she can detect anything useful in le garbage pile, then... approaches it, trying to sense what she can without actually touching it first. she's certainly seen worse sights, sigh]

Re: Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

There's not much to tell with psychic powers, unfortunately. You do catch a few glints of things people may not have meant to throw away? Some usable tools, some glints of metal, food that might be still edible in some places.

Re: Composition 1

[ahorseforgood]

[TIME TO RUMMAGE THROUGH GARBAGE

she's fine with that, for a good cause, and that child is certainly one :B]

Re: Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

You dig up some edible vegetables, a tin whistle, and some coppers.

Re: Composition 1

[ahorseforgood]

[gathers them all up as best she can in a scrap of cloth and just

PUTS IT ALL IN THE BOWL]

Re: Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

You sense a moment of incredulity from the presence around you, but also, it works.

Re: Composition 1

[ahorseforgood]

[what happens? (also, what do the beggars do?)]

Re: Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

MY BAD The door clicks and unlocks. (It's a latch door so you can open it too).

The old lady croons over the bowl, sweeping the coins away a moment later. Stef goes for the other things, the vegetable and the whistle.

Re: Composition 1

[ahorseforgood]

[winks at him with one big blue eye]

:Be sure to keep that whistle, my young friend. I think you'll find it useful.

--I'm sorry it wasn't more. Will you be back here again?:

Re: Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

He nods, clutching it.

Re: Composition 1

[ahorseforgood]

[sincerely]

:I will try to return.:

[...OPENS THE LATCH... I GUESS]

Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

The next room is a very small tenement room. There's a heap of rags making up a bed. In it is the same old woman from the previous room, snoring loudly and drunkenly. There's no mistaking her condition—an empty bottle is still clutched in her hand.

The boy is huddled in the opposite corner from the bed. He is stretching out legs that are clearly sore, a shiner of a bruise on his cheek and his fingers are shaking, though whether it's hunger or pain, it's hard to tell. There are resentful tears unshed in his eyes as he silently goes about his business. He too is on a pile of rags, and although he clearly recognizes you, he stares at you suspiciously, shoving them a little more behind himself like he thinks they're about to be taken away. A crutch leans against the wall near him. A rat scurries through the room as you take the image in.

As before, the cord runs through the room and under a locked door with some sort of weighted platform next to it. This time, there's no bowl, but it's clear something should still go there.

A sign on the door reads: "What is the weight of family? What of love?"

Re: Composition 2

[ahorseforgood]

[...nods seriously to him, eyes dark]

:My young friend.:

Re: Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

"Madam?"

Re: Composition 2

[ahorseforgood]

:You're hurt...:

Re: Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

He nods, huddling back again. "I'm okay though."

Re: Composition 2

[ahorseforgood]

:I'm sure. You've been very brave.:

Re: Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

He shrugs a shoulder. "Have to."

Re: Composition 2

[ahorseforgood]

:Yes.

Are you cold? Can I help?:

Re: Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

He shakes his head. "I'm just getting out of this while she sleeps it off."

Re: Composition 2

[ahorseforgood]

:Where will you go...?:

Re: Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

"Oh. Just to go buy some food. Don't... tell her?"