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Rantzen Literature | The Forever People

Discussion in 'Freeform Roleplays' started by CerberusLycan, Mar 28, 2015.

  1. A light flickered pallidly. The cold white tiles of the hospital hallway bespoke both rigid cleanliness and an unsettling facade; a crusade to cover up anything unsightly. A female's pleasing voice bounces pristinely off these walls. "Hey Suzanne. Have you heard about the patient in Room 116?" A fair dark-haired woman turned her head at the greeting, shook her head and asked why, what about them? The other gal, a strawberry blonde with a high voice named Elaine, answered after making a show of looking around. "They say he can't die," she whispers, savoring the gossip. A rumble of thunder in the distance made her glance unhappily out the window. Suzanne raised an eyebrow but didn't voice her doubt. Who was she, wary of even her own cynicism, to deny people their fancies? Eager to divert her attention, she looked at the main entrance and witnessed it begin to rain beyond the glass. A tall man wearing a long, dark coat walked through the doors a moment after, shooting a look over his shoulder, probably wondering at his small fortune of not having to suffer any of the downpour.
     
  2. RE: Rantzen's Literature | The Forever People

    The room was as lovely as it would ever be.  
    The dark clouds dimming the incessant light of machines.  Pounding rain covering the never ending beating of her heart.  
    If she could move her arms she would find her entire body prickly.  Shaved head, shaved legs, goose bumps.  The chill of the room over powering the warmth of the thin cotton sheet.

    "Sister Evie, Sister Evie, Will you wake? Will you wake?" She sang, growing louder as she continued, "Doctors are coming! Doctors are coming! Clang clang clang. Clang clang clang!"
     
  3. The man's long, grey coat billowed gently behind him from residual force as he slammed the door shut behind him. How fortuitous; he had made it just in the nick of time. But then again, his timing was nothing if not precise to the exact moment. A cursory glance over his shoulder confirmed that the rain was falling behind him. He almost smiled. Gingerly in a simple motion, he removed his hat, placed it against his chest, and strolled forward into the room. His free hand instinctively went to his pocketwatch - a brassy mechanism which clicked open as his foot hit the ground. Half-six. Right on time, indeed. He furrowed his brow as he saw a female in front of him, looking expectant. "Hullo, madam. I hope I am not late for visiting hours," - As if I ever would be, - "Can I have one of you two direct me to one-twenty? I believe that is where I am to go."
     
  4. Suzanne stepped forward and reached into her white coat, pulling a folded pamphlet from within it's confines. Unfolding it- 4 folds, how lucky- she held it between her pointer and her middle, extending it to the man "A map. For future reference, should you come again." Her other arm extended to gesture behind her, to the darkened hallway littered with doors "Come." Not waiting to see if he had taken the map or not, she stalked down the tiled path. The path to 120 was down an excellent route, 4 turns.
     
  5. The dark-haired woman seemed eager enough to come to his aid. Perhaps... too much so, he mused to himself. The man clad in his grey coat could not tell for the life of him whether this lady wished to be rid of the other woman's company -- had they been having a row? He didn't yet know what to make of this woman; she had yet to give him a solid enough read. The man looked her up and down as she retrieved something from her white coat -- a nurse? She stood in stark contrast to him; he towered over top of her, his own grey coat seeming rather weathered and glum beside her stark, white coat with a complexion to match. A piece of paper was thrust in his general direction before he could conclude his brief analysis, accompanied by a simple direction. "Should you come again." It was not really for his benefit nor was it an invitation, he concluded, but rather uttered because she felt obligated to say such hollow words. Would he visit again? Well, he supposed it would just depend on what those circumstances entailed.

    The supposed nurse took off before he was able to receive the map from her hands, leaving it to flutter gently towards the ground. The man cast a glance upon it, lingering for just a moment. Ultimately, he decided, if it was not important enough for her to hand it to him directly, then he would have little need of carrying would-be recyclables on his person. The man sauntered after the woman; he was completely at home without direction from a map.
     
  6. Suzanne turned to look at the man, tugging her coat closer to herself as she did so. She loved the path here, yes, but she hated this room. This one damnable door. Always as if someone had the AC on high within it's confines. The cold always slipped through the door like a tangible force, caressing her as if in invitation. ("Oh, but Suzanne," They'd say "It feels just like the rest of the hallway!") She'd have to make this quick before it got any worse.

    "Here we are, sir. Room 120." She was certain there was some procedure here- What's your relation to this patient? How long will you be staying? ID please?- but it wasn't like she knew it. The cold seemed to grow stronger and she could feel it traveling like a whisper down her spine- "Have you seen the man-machine, have you seen sweet 116?"

    The temperature wasn't words and words weren't temperature, she reasoned. Feelings didn't have sounds and the sentence she 'felt' was just a waking dream. She felt it scratching at the back of her knees, the words imprinting across her body. Betraying her slight shivers, sweat clung to her brow. "I'll be off then." She croaked, turning down the hall and rushing past the cold of 120, then past 116. She scratched absently at the patient barcode at her wrist, until she could feel red pooling beneath her nails- "Colors aren't feelings and feelings aren't colors." She said.
     

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