THE EVENT HORIZON - DAY TWO

[inferis]

[Something during the night has activated the ship's gravity core. There seems to be no evidence as to what caused it. Everything within the ship remains stable, but the ship itself shakes violently, and deep in the bowels, a ominous rumbling sound can be heard]

[[OOC: Please wait for sections. THE GRAVITY CORE | AROUND THE SHIP | DAY TWO OOC POST | PLOT CHAT | PLOT HUB]]

Comments

[madetosin]

[He stops, blinks lazily at Sherlock, and then drags the instrument back one more time with added force - SCcccccrrrrrrrrreEEEEEEcccchhhhhh - before stopping again.

Look at these people, already twitching and running about like rats in a maze.]

Careful, you'll break something.

[Whether he means the instruments or his body is unclear]

[workaphilic]

[He doesn't seem that concerned about the instruments, anyway. He kicks the things that fell off the shelf out of his way so he can start rifling through it.]

That's the point, isn't it? Breaking. What else would it be?

[madetosin]

[He doesn't appear to really care either way, and he watches the instruments scatter.]

Of course it is. The question is, are you weak enough to let it?

[workaphilic]

Blah, blah blah, weak-willed, strong-willed. [He throws more things to the ground.] Broken, unaffected.

If you really think the lines will be that simple to discern, you'd best be more careful.

[madetosin]

I know exactly where I stand. You're searching for reason where there doesn't need to be any. What is it that you're trying to find?

[workaphilic]

On the shelf, or in the grand scheme of the castle's machinations?

[More things eating dirt.]

[madetosin]

You make a lot of noise for someone complaining about it. But why don't you tell me both anyway.

[workaphilic]

[He hums, slightly musical.]

Why should I?

[madetosin]

Where else do your thoughts go, but bouncing into the void; unheard and unjustified?

[He adjust himself on the stool so his back is to the table, his leg crossed in front of him]

[workaphilic]

[He laughs out loud, his hand clenching briefly against the door frame.]

You're here to justify my thoughts. Mine. As if I need it in the first place.

[madetosin]

[The laughter doesn't seem to bother him.]

You clearly need something. A sedative, perhaps.

[workaphilic]

[Blandly:]

Morphine would do.

[madetosin]

You should have said so in the first place.

[workaphilic]

[He flaps one hand.]

No, there's no point in it now. If I'd come prepared, maybe, but there's things that need to be done.

[madetosin]

Such as? What is it you think you can do?