paradisa

What... what's going on?! Whoa, I, um-- a-aah--

[ 5 has to pause for a moment to compose himself. It isn't every morning that you wake up in a completely different body, lying in the hall outside your room because you're suddenly much too big for it. At least the castle had the decency to boot him out before transforming him into a human for its own amusement, but that's the last thing on his mind right now. ]

Someone, please-- tell me what's happening! My body is... n-no, why, it's all wrong, why am I so big and my hands are-- not... metal, it...

Please help.

[ Anyone on the sixth floor may stumble across a young man with red hair dressed in an odd burlap outfit; he's huddled against the wall with his knees bundled close to his chest, trembling. He won't be going anywhere for a while... he's a little too busy freaking out. ]

patching_up

[When he awakens in the morning, he doesn't feel anything out of the ordinary. It is only when he passes by the pointed shard of mirror he'd propped up against the wall beside his bed that he freezes, mortified, raising a hand to the burn that has spread across his eyepatch. He remembers exactly where that mark came from. How could he ever forget? But it wasn't supposed to be there anymore, it had been gone when he awoke in this place...]

[He moves to pick up his journal, speaking tentatively into a blank page, his voice strained. He just has to get it fixed, that's all. That's all. He'll make it go away.]

Is anyone here good at sewing? I need a favor.

[He's shaking as he sets it down again. There's a mark on his back, but he doesn't see it; he's too busy burying his head in his hands.]

patching_up

I never thought I'd be this glad to be back in my own room. Watching movies was nice, really, but-- I don't think I wanted to do it for a whole week. That won't happen if I go to the theater again, will it...?

Oh, I was wondering. Does anyone have any, um... anything broken that they don't want? Scrap metal or spare parts, or even bits of glass or plastic would work. I'd like to build some things, but it's a lot harder than I expected to make them with stuff that's intact. I'm not used to that at all, and it feels kind of bad to ask the castle for things and then just... ruin them. You know? I'm not sure what I'd even ask it for, anyway. I've only ever worked with stuff I've found lying around.

So, yeah, if you have any miscellaneous stuff that doesn't work or that you want to get rid of, please bring it to room 616. N-nothing too big, though! It won't fit through the door.

[For quite some time, 5 will be sitting just outside his room on the sixth floor in the hopes that someone might drop by. He doesn't want to be rude and leave the area in case anyone shows up... though he doesn't entirely take into account the fact that the door to his room is extraordinarily easy to miss.]

patching_up

[When 5 speaks into his journal it is with a cracked and haggard tone, quieter than it ought to be. He did not expect to wake up this morning in perfect condition, save the irreparable missing eye of course-- though while that was simply a shock, the realization that the decades of memories he'd been reminiscing on were all a lie definitely stung quite a bit more. His fabricated life and history, after all, were much nicer and less traumatic than the reality he has now been brought back to.]

None of that was real. It was all in my head...

[There is a dry, sobbing sound.]

No... w-why...? I had years and years o-of... of happy memories, where n-no one died and it... the castle... it did this to me? Why?!

It...

It must really hate me. Whatever I did wrong, ah, I'm sorry... I'm sorry! Please, n-no more of this...

patching_up

... nngh... w-what...

[There is a dull crackling of static from the journal, and the low sound of shuffling can be heard in the background.]

What... huh? Where am... I-I-- ... N-Nine? Seven...? I--

I... my body, I-I'm back in my body, I'm-- alive-- I'm alive! But where--

[A distinct pause, as he examines his surroundings.]

Am I dreaming? N-no, that's not true, it can't be. Everything feels... real. It's so bright, and I-I remember what--

[He gasps, and the words that come next are fraught with distress and panic.]

Oh, n-no, no-- I can't be dead, they can't... be...

[A long moment of silence.]

Why is it... just me? Why? Nine, please, say something, please be there! If I'm alive, then you're here too, right...?

... Right?

Somebody... somebody has to be here...

...

Anybody...

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January 2015

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