Prolonging Lucidity (IC)

[Katelyn]

OOC

The video you received as part of your welcome packet:

Dr. Elizabeth Parker stood on the side of the stage, her eyes focused on the widow on the far side of the classroom where the chilly fall air flirted with the burnt orange leaves that had fallen from their host and scattered the ground. The sound of the professor announcing her name and credentials pulled her from her reverie. The students whooped and hollered as she walked carefully up to the microphone, not nervous, but a bit of excitement touching at the edge of her consciousness.

She stopped in front of the microphone and laid down her speech, “Good morning. As Dr. Ashorn already mentioned, I’m Dr. Elizabeth Parker and I’m here on behalf of the Baylor, school of Psychology’s Semi-annual Prolonging Lucidity study.” She paused as the crowd went a little nuts. She smirked at their excitement. “I take it you’ve heard of it?” She chuckled as did they.

“Let me give you a little back ground and then I will be happy to announce the fall recipients of the grants to attend our study starting Monday morning.” She flipped her page and looked up at the smiling, excited faces. “The study of sleep and REM has been conducted in differing degrees since 5000BC, where findings were documented on clay tablets. The earliest recorded dreams were acquired from materials dating back to Mesopotamia and they were regarded as an extension of our true reality, what we’ve later labeled as our “sub conscious.” Now… I won’t go too far into the details or history, as I would like to save some of that for our participants to enjoy as part of their journey with us. I will tell you that we have been looking at and studying the human mind, the part it plays in emotions and reaction to sensory information, as well as how the dreams of the subconscious have power over all of that for a very, very long time.”

She moved away from the podium, all eyes on her – some interested, some intrigued, some apathetic and some lustful. She smiled and continued, “Some believe dreams predict the future and some believe they tell of the past. But what if they were the true reality of the present? The brain is an incredible – the most incredible organ we have. Dreams and emotional realities play a large part in that.” She paused and turned to take a sip of water.

“We at the Baylor Lucidity Institute have constructed dream patterns that we will administer to each of our participants over a series of six weeks. These dream patterns, or dreamscapes as we call them are independent of their host and have no bearing on the hosts past, or future. They are farmed or created realities that we will be administering through tiny electrodes that slip under the skin – feels like a pinch.” She smiled as she demonstrated with her fingers spread across her dark crimson hair.

“The purpose of the study is to monitor and measure emotional reaction from the participants in these given situations, both as a physical participant in the dream and an emotional one as you, yourself having woken from a traumatizing nightmare or a love making dream.” She stopped to allow them to indulge in snickers.

She smiled and walked behind the podium. “If you are receiving this video, then you have been chosen to attend our study. Please note that we had over one hundred thousand applicants. Along with this video, you will find information about travel from your destination to Texas, medical release for and lots of informational items for you and for you to fill out for us."

She looked directly into the camera just off to her left, "If you're wondering why we are filming this in a large auditorium full of people, these are the people that have gone before you and participated in the study before. They are just here to congratulate you for joining their ranks today." She smiled brightly as the camera turned and spanned the crowd, people of all ages, races and social backgrounds yelled and whoop'd for the new attendees.

She smiled and clapped with everyone else. “Thank you again for your time and if you have questions about the study, included in your packet is more information, a web address and links to our sites.” She stepped off the stage and the screen went black.

************************************************** ****************

Abby:

Accepted. What a great first word on her letter from the University study. The chance to get the hell out of there for a while and get a breather from everyone’s expectations of her was almost overwhelming. There wasn’t a place in her world that someone didn’t expect something of Abigail Miller. This dream study was her own original idea and one that she’d worked hard to research and gain understanding as to what repetitive characteristics they seemed to select in their candidates.

The study dated back to the mid-fifties and was created by a man named, Arthur Markham, a revolutionary thinker for his time. Abby carefully reviewed all of the participants and dug into their lives, learning them. After having a good understanding of what they were looking for, using simple statistical analysis, she applied and simply twisted a few of her own stories and character traits to obtain entrance.

She needed a break from life and something relatively academic was the only hope she had in gaining the acceptance of her overbearing parents and pushy boyfriend. Their acceptance unfortunately was everything to her. She picked up the letter again, having watched the video three times since receiving the packet in the mail the day before. She pulled the top on her suitcase closed and zipped it, patted the top and made one last sweep around her room before grabbing her bags and wrestling them downstairs.

Her father was a senator from New York and her mother a lawyer for one of the top firms in the city and needless to say, neither were around very much. Her boyfriend, Mark was too busy practicing for the rugby practice later that evening to bother taking her to the airport. As usual, Jenson, their butler, ushered her there and helped her get off and onto freedom for a few weeks.

She thanked him, as no one else in their household bothered to do, and walked down the run way. The flight to Texas would be a little under three hours. She’d picked up a great smut novel and was delighted that she wouldn’t even have to hide it for fear of retribution from those around her. She snuggled into her seat and opened her book, a smile playing on her pretty mouth.

The plane landed way too soon in her opinion, having only read two-thirds of the novel. She sighed, stowed it away and moved with the others off the plane. A young man waiting at the end of the terminal with her name printed on a sign that he held, a smile on his handsome face. Well, what have we here?

She walked up slowly and smiled, “I’m Abby Miller, and you?”

He put the sign in his briefcase and extended his large hand, “I’m Joey Warren. I’m Dr. Parker’s assistant and a grad student. Nice to meet you.”

Abby blushed a little due to his handsome appeal, but shook his hand and cleared her throat, a nervous habit. “Nice to meet you as well. So, we’re off to the facility then?”

“We will be shortly,” he said, reaching for her bag. “We’ve got a few more people to get before we leave the airport, but a few of them are already at the facility. If everything works out as planned, we will arrive just in time for dinner.”

“Sounds great, I’m starved.” Her tummy growled as if it were aware of their conversation over something warm and filing. They both laughed and headed down the long hall to pick up another student, anxiety tugging at the recess of Abby chest.

Freedom, just concentrate on the freedom.

[Manet]

Alex closed his laptop after watching the video for the third time, and leaned back a bit more in his seat. He shot a glance out the window and saw a long white wing. He listened to the comforting hum of the plane's engines for a moment and closed his eyes. Something about the spirit of the video had made him cringe, yet he was intrigued, no doubt. He couldn't remember ever applying for the sleep study, had he been drunk while applying? Either way, the opportunity to just get away for a while couldn't have come at a better time.
He had barely told anyone he was going, letting people worry was such an underestimated past-time.

Baylor Lucidity Institute. The name didn't ring a bell, either, though everyone in the introduction video seemed to presume he would. He supposed that's what happened when an institution got too caught up with its own success and became self-centered. The doctor Parked did seem to emit a certain aura confidence and knowledge in her field though, even to a layman like Alex. Maybe that was the reason why he decided to go in the first place. Well, it wasn't just that.
Alex admitted it to himself; ever since he had read his first text by Freud he had been interested in the power of the subconscious and how to unlock and interact with it.
His trail of thought was interrupted by a stewardess asking if he wanted anything. He declined. What he really wanted now was a cigarette, yet in this day and age it was still not allowed on any ordinary airline.

~~

The landing was as calm and uneventful as any aviophobic could ever hope for.
Welcome to Texas a large sign said as he disembarked. Alex solemnly put on his sunglasses and headed out into the terminal. He spotted a girl standing beside a young man holding up the sign. He sized them up and approached with a somewhat careless stride. He put on a polite smile. Nothing wrong with making a good first impression, right?
"I'm Alex, you're from the Baylor study?"

[Papercut]

Sophie glanced lazily over to her flickering laptop screen. The seemingly-prehistoric machine was doing its best to play the informational video; she could see a sloppy, compressed image of Dr. Elizabeth Parker talking about ancient Mesopotamia, and dreams. Sophie looked back towards her small messenger bag, cramming in damp laundry and trying her best to listen to the Doctor whilst her mind nagged her savagely about things that hardly mattered. Get your toothbrush. Get your painkillers, remember to bring that charming 1st Edition print about Caravaggio.

She looked once more towards the pixelated Doctor and her audience. They sure seemed to like her. Maybe she was one of those “cool” professors, the kind that sent you friend requests on social networking websites, the kind that invited you class to get a coffee whilst perhaps indulging in a philosophical conversation about Freud. Sophie bit her lip roughly. She didn’t need another professor like that, not just yet. Making a mental note to act strictly professional during the study, she absent-mindedly shoved the rest of her clothes into the messenger bag. If the clothes somehow needed to breathe, they would all be dead by now.

As Dr. Parker continued to hammer on about the significance of the study, Sophie found herself daydreaming, mindlessly gazing at one of her favorite posters. It was Dali’s famous Metamorphosis of Narcissus. The print was crumpled and tattered, she’d had it for years now, but still it remained pinned to her wall as a bizarre inspiration for rainy, mindless days. Narcissus himself was staring at his reflection in the foreground pool, his figure stony and obsolete, whilst a transformed counterpart sat next to him. Apparently the Gods thought they would turn him into a flower for his arrogance. Wincing, Sophie tore her eyes away from the print. She wasn’t fond of attempting to translate Dali’s work into plausible, verbal descriptions. It was simply impossible. But that’s why it’s so fucking good, she thought to herself. Like the best fancy food, you take a bite and you have no idea what you’re eating, but you know it’s the most delicious thing that’s ever sat in your mouth.

She was indeed a true patron of Dali and the Surrealist movement in general. If only she had been alive in the 1920s, in Paris no less, sitting in a hazy coffee shop drawing inspiration from the way cigarette smoke curled around her fingers. She would look at the bejeweled women, the whisky-sipping men. Sketching and thinking. She would talk with the artists and writers, drifting down cobblestone streets, her stilettos cracking on the pavement.

But that would never happen. The least she could do was to start her thesis—a study on Dreams and Surrealism: A Look at Dream Symbolism Throughout Art History. How pretentious that sounded. Although it was a bad idea to start off on a bad relationship with one’s own thesis, she would be stuck with it for years. And what better way to get started than to conduct personal field research by partaking in a dream study? It was the perfect opportunity that came along at the perfect time, and now she had been accepted.

Sophie snapped back to reality when the sound of cheers and applause met her ears. It was a tinny sound coming from her ancient laptop. She looked to the screen, eyes met with a happy-looking audience. The previous testers. Well, at least they seemed cheerful. They weren’t mentally scarred for life. That was a good sign. Maybe the study would even be fun.

With the video over, Sophie snapped her laptop shut and heaved the black beast into her messenger bag. The bag was threatening to bust, the objects inside jutting out sharply under the fabric; despite this, the art student continued to feed the swelling mass with apparent “essentials”, which mostly included treasured art books. A little Frida Kahlo to keep her cheerful yet contemplative, some Georgia O’Keefe for a rainy day, and a touch of her old friend Van Gogh for his beautifully depressing starry nights. That should keep her busy. She threw in her tired-looking sketchbook and an unopened box of vine charcoal for good measure. And of course, the aforementioned Caravaggio book. There, done packing. Although…

Sophie’s hand lingered over a small paper cover, Andy Warhol: A Retrospective. It had been a gift. After an apparent moment of contemplation, her hand recoiled as if the book had physically pained her, quickly turning her back to it. She didn’t need any reminding right now. This was a fresh start.

She hauled the heavy messenger bag over her shoulder, the strap straining to uphold the art student’s “essential” items, and made her way out of her dorm, locking the door behind her, and eventually stepping out into the cool air. It would be a while before she returned. It would be a long trip, but the girl would not complain—she was lucky enough to be taking part in a study that was so relevant to her thesis. As long as they didn’t garb her in a prison outfit and lock her in the Stanford basement, she silently vowed to be cooperative and tolerant. Maybe.

Sophie contemplated the dreams themselves. Perhaps she would step into one of Dali’s paintings, or maybe Monet’s hay fields during spring. She noted that the informational packet had been particularly vague about the dream matter, but probably for a good reason. It was, after all, a psychological study. Psychological studies, especially social ones, tended to conceal their true purpose to the participants. She gave a small shudder, thinking of the Milgram Obedience Experiment. It wouldn’t be anything like that, would it..?

Surely not. Even that would be considered unethical for today’s standards, she hoped.

- - -

A stiflingly uncomfortable plane ride later, Sophie shuffled from the plane whilst attempting to mask her scowl. She had tried to draw the sleeping gentleman sitting next to her in the sweltering coach, but he had not been cooperative.

She impatiently swept through the baggage claim, eyes resting on the growing group of young adults with the sign. Perhaps she should at least attempt to be pleasant. Stepping over to the crowd, she offered a strained smile. "I take it this is the group of dreamers, then."

[Hymusia]

Click...

Well...that was...something. She looked from the black screen of the monitor to the acceptance letter again ,reading by the light of the electric lamp placed on the computer desk and scrutinising the letter for any sign of a prank or a hoax. There, wasn't any, which confused her a little, watching the video had left her curious and wondering on many a thing. The authenticity was one of them, whether or not it was supposed to come across as a romantic drama was another, and just what kind of insecurities the 'doctor' must have had about her looks to need to feed off of those hungry little eyes.

Once more she inspected the letter, the postage mark and date and the contents that had come with it. She'd gone through the pamphlet already, which had explained in great detail about the experiment she was going to undergo while abroad with these people. She was beginning to wonder if it was a good idea or not, but the University Professor had said that it would almost guarantee her top marks if she attended it. While she didn't really need the aid to pass, having top marks would look quite good when she attempted to set up or join a practise.

Sighing Amelia turned her dark eyes away from the computer, swivelling on the chair she sat on and surveying her darkened room. It would be nice to get away, even for a little while and she'd never been abroad before. Stretching Amelia decided it was time to sleep, after all it was gone midnight in the good old UK.
* * *

The flight had been long and cramped, so when she stepped off the plane the first thing she did was stretch at the top of the stairs, holding everyone else up for a good five seconds or so until she was satisfied her bones were back in working order. It was hot, and she was certainly not a fan of the heat, but this heat was slightly different than British heat, it was less suffocating but still as uncomfortable to her.

After passing through customs she reclaimed her phone and thrust the jack to her head phones in, plugging them into her ears and cranking up the volume to 'ear drum shatteringly loud'. The tinny sound of rock music escaping the purple dead bunny head shaped headphones which matched the dead bunny protective sleeve over the phone. Her luggage was also purple with the dead bunny on it. X's for eyes and dressed in a tartan skirt it was surely the most alternative bunny around and if not, neither it nor her owner gave a damn!

Said owner had her hair up in bunches today, purple streaks in both sides and another hanging from her fringe. Matching deep purple lipstick and thick eye shadow that ran across her eyes like a mask from temple to temple. She stood only about five foot and seven inches but four of those inches were from the black leather platform boots she wore; purple laces, the 'new rock' symbol on the back and tongue. She wore slashed purple tights and a purple and black tartan skirt, with a dark purple fabric corset with black accents and purple and black striped arm warmers.

She wasn't so much walking as half dancing half skipping, her head bobbing to the music and her eyes half lidded as the rock song blared on. She was humming amazingly out of key and gaining quite a few looks as shimmied passed or pirouetted out of someone's way with all the grace of an emu. Still, the crowning pinnacle of her popularity was as the crescendo of the song was reached and she paused in the middle of the arrival pathway, releasing her grip on the handle of her luggage and leaving it to rock back and forth daringly.

In a matter of a mere few seconds her newly freed hands were thrust into the air with such vigour it was amazing they were still attached, the dark purple nails glittering in the fluorescent lights as she pointed the index's at the sky and the others curled back to the palm. Her legs splayed like a soldier at ease and she cried out with all the musical talent of an opossum. “Wan~teeeed!” Noticing none of the commotion she caused; like a few people dropping their luggage and a lot looking over at her, she was quite a moment, giving a satisfied nod as if she had just completed the Mona Lisa and found it perfect. Before then carrying on with a voice that could probably hold a tune if she ever wanted to concentrate that long. “Dead or alive~”

As Mr. Jovi warbled on in that wonderful way he did she grabbed up the handle of her bag and continued on without a care in the world for the chaos and abject confusion she had just created. Humming once again and carrying on with her strange almost dancing mannerisms. So en-rapt in her own little bubble she didn't see the sign, the boy or the girl and kept on heading towards the exit.

[Unhallow]

"You're a motherfucker, you know that?"

"Mm."

"Seriously, all those mothers you fuck."

A small NERF ball bounced off the side of Isaac's head, landing impotently and silently on the neatly made surface of his bed. From across the room Warren was pouting, a pudgy and prematurely balding manling who was currently enraptured by the video playing on his monstrous screen. Positioned for maximum visibility when Isaac was invariably away, Dr. Parker's 1080P head floated in all it's high definition glory just above Isaac's, who was currently occupied in his last minute packing.

A psych major who'd followed the Prolonging Lucidity project for god knows how long and had heard about it each year as, invariably, one of his professors took a day to analyze the research, Warren was understandably irritated that Isaac had made it in and he hadn't.

"You only put your name in because I told you too." He muttered accusingly, glaring daggers at his roommate over the unexpected betrayal.

"So it's really your fault then, isn't it?" Almost done packing, Isaac was really just finishing off his surprisingly small travel pack--they'd have laundry machines there, and he really didn't own that many clothes. Though he was dressed nicely at the moment the wardrobe in the black box consisted almost entirely of hoodies, baggy cargo pants and worn out T-shirts. "You can keep the video, if you want, work out that tremendous nerd-on you've got going for her."

"She's a babe, what do you want from me? Besides, you see the way she flirts with the camera? She wants me."

HD didn't suit her nearly as badly as it could have, Isaac had to give him that, but as his companion worked his moves to some imaginary Barry White Isaac gave Dr. Parker a final once over. Not, he decided, for him.

"Something odd about the face." He concluded, snapping his luggage shut and straightening up. As he checked the time with a flick of his phone, his roommate gave a loud and dismissive snort.

"You're just intimidated. Maybe if you stopped your quantum thinking long enough to get some blood flow where it matters, you wouldn't be so picky."

"I have zero interest in hearing what you have to say about my junk." Straightening up and tugging on the cuffs of his jacket one final time, he reached down and pulled the dufflebag over his shoulder. Compared to his outfit, which was the nicest he owned (and a hand-me-down from a friend's father who had it tailored for him as a Christmas present), the duffel bag was Jurassic--two hundred million years ago he was sure it had been formidable, but being excavated clearly hadn't done it any favors. It didn't even have wheels. "And now I'm about to be late for my ride, so fuck you very much."

"No, fuck her very much. Just put her on her knees and leave the face out of it."

"Bye, Warren!"

The door, mercifully, slid closed over whatever Warren had to say, and Isaac headed for the stairs unmolested.

----------------------------------------------------------

Aside from an impromptu karaoke session that was wince-worthy by a space cadet in the halls, Isaac's flight and travel was surprisingly smooth. He'd splurged a bit--shut up--on a few drinks during the flight, and he was currently rocking the extra smooth vibe that only came from a bit of gentle self-medication. He'd managed to navigate his way past the wailing harajuku girl and into the terminal proper when he spotted the strolling pair with the Lucidity sign. A quick allegro and he'd caught up with them.

He offered a slight wave as he approached, a light smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He was sort of handsome, in a kind of bookish, skinny white guy kind of way, and well dressed in a nice suit with the gently used look of travel, but he wore it like he was used to it and offered a hand to the pair. The guy he took for an assistant of the project, and unless he worked fast the girl ogling him on his arm was one of the participants, not his girlfriend.

"Hey. Isaac Metzger. Been waiting long?"

[Katelyn]

Abby walked with Joey as they made small talk, moving down the airport in search of other participants. She glanced at various travelers as they rushed by her and answered Joey nonchalantly, trying to quell the nervousness that was rising in her chest over the idea of someone having the ability to mess with the inside of her head. Joey was overly excited and he spoke a mile a minute, mostly about Texas and asking random questions about her life in New York. She figured he’d been doing this for a while seeing that he was so comfortable talking with a complete stranger.

He must’ve met a million strangers over the last few years. Weird career choice.

They stopped at terminal B28 and waiting for the plane to finish pulling into the dock. Joey pulled out his “Baylor University Lucidity Study” sign and stood there, still smiling and chatting away. Abby tried to keep up with him, but her mind began to wonder. Going to a new place with total strangers wasn’t really that big of a deal, but in combination with all of the other events to come… she felt her stomach shift and closed her eyes for a minute.

“Hey… you okay, Abby?” Joey’s voice was soft and full of concern. “You don’t look so well.”

She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “I’m good, just a little air sick still. I hate flying.” She lied and ran her fingers through her long hair. As people started walking out the exit, she watched a friendly looking guy walk their way, a smile touching his lips.

“I’m Alex, you’re from the Baylor study, right?”

Joey stuck out his hand and smiled, “We sure are. This is Abby.”

Abby stepped up and extended her hand as well, “Hi there. I’m here as a participant too, nice to meet you.”

Joey nodded toward the next terminal, “We need to move this way a little to pick up Isaac at gate B22.”

Abby walked next to Alex listening to Joey talk his ear off now, grateful for the momentary reprieve. They stopped at the gate and Nate held up his sign as Joey gave the same spill to Alex.

He’s not nervous about talking to people… he’s saying the same shit over and over. No wonder he seems like a natural. Wonder if he practices in the mirror on himself. Abby turned her head to hide her smirk.

A lovely girl rushed by them singing and flailing about. Abby winced at the off pitch signing, but had to give it to the girl for having the guts to let it all hang out like that. Joey looked over his shoulder at the rising young star as she passed. “She looks familiar,” he muttered and kept going.

Before they could stop, a handsome guy with black hair jogged up to them. Abby felt her eyebrow go up and school her features quickly. Behave, she growled at herself.

"Hey. Isaac Metzger. Been waiting long?"

“Not at all,” Joey said and extended his hand, introducing Isaac to everyone.

Joey pulled Isaac into the conversation with Alex and herself as they made their way to baggage claim. Suddenly, Joey handed the sign to Abby, “Can you hold this while I check in with Dr. Parker? We’re still missing a few of our people.”

Abby nodded and held up the sign. “Where are you guys from?” She asked trying to make small talk in hopes of reducing any awkwardness. The real question of the hour was, ‘what the fuck were we thinking by signing up for some scientist to jack with our heads all summer…’ Abby turned at the sound of the girls voice, "I take it this is the group of dreamers, then."

“That’d be us.” Abby extended her hand, “I’m Abby… and you are?” She smiled warmly as the girl introduced herself. Abby located Joey and the walked over toward him as the group made small talk.

Joey watched the group for a minute, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for Elizabeth to pick up the call. They would need to hurry to make it back in time for the big Mexican feast the kitchen crew had prepared for them. He was looking forward to getting to know these guys better and finally getting to his summer, where he could spend loads of time with Elizabeth. He smiled as the sound of her voice as it came on the line.

Abby watched Joey as he talked with the doctor, turning to them as he hung up and a small smile played on his mouth. He liked her... the doctor. Abby smiled at the thought of his crush. He was a handsome guy, not as pristine looking at her boyfriend, but his personality and demeanor helped to make him way more attractive. He walked up to them and shook his head, “Okay… our last guy is going to be late. Elizabeth… I mean Dr. Parker will send a cab for him, and our last female was most like the pop diva that danced past us upstairs. I’ll go locate her and you guys just hang out here for a few minutes.”

He winked at Abby and she blushed and nodded, turning back to the group of people that she was bound to get to know pretty well by the time this was all said and done.

[Kooch21]

Nick chose the bus as a transport to get to Texas. Sure, it wasn't the fastest way to get to the big state, but it was surely safer than NYC airplanes. There was no fear from heights when it came to what Nick was afraid from. He knew that New york air lines at the past few years have been hiring few pilots that were not reliable. Company's director and worker cousins and their children were working instead of professional pilots with diplomas. Now that was insane. How could you let someone to steer a huge metal air ship with hundreds of lives inside without the proper skills. Nick had this information from reliable sources, hackers and underground pirates as they called themselves.

Sank in his seat with a blank stare looking through the window Nick was thinking about the project he would attend to. It was the last night when he recieved the package with a video CD in it. He almost threw it in the garbage bin like the rest of the advertisement sent to his apartments. But he didn't. His curiosity won over him. Inserting the disc and watching it through out left him slightly confused, but nevertheless interested in it. Although he was majorly skeptic about this project. Confused because he had never been applied to such thing and has never heard before of this kind of scientific experimental project. Something similar from time to time have flown over the internet, but that was more likely looking like science fiction rather something real. What got him interested was the subject. To explore the reality which in self is not reality. It greatly reminded him of Matrix. If there was things that was not possible to perform in this reality, there was a definite chance to do them in some kind of another dimension if it would exist. No matter how crazy and unbelievable this project sounded to him, he was in the bus and on his way to meet these scientists and let them to experiment with him and only because he hoped for creating something great. He was tired of this reality. It was time to change it for another one.

Finally arriving at the meeting place. The Texas airport. He had gathered some information about this terminal. It seemed like everything was fine and it was reliable. It was no reason to worry. He would know what to do in extreme situations as he have experienced those before. Carrying a huge Nike sport bag which he would thrown over his shoulder, he entered the airport. He was wearing his casual clothing, mostly black and his green shades covering his eyes. Spotting a small crowd of people, one of them, particularly a handsome being holding a sign above her head. She looked cute. He let his shades to slid of of his nose for just a bit to have a clearer look at her slender legs. After examining her he went over to her.

With a close eye-contact he said. "Experimental bunny has arrived. I'm Nicolas Breadson. Hoping i have arrived at the right place. Otherwise someone would have to pay for my ticket back to home" He spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.

[guinness]

Music blared through a small dance studio, a mix of hip hop and faster pace Drum&Bass. The walls shook once the bass started to pump and had she not been alone in the studio it was likely she'd been cited for disturbing the peace, but since their was no peace to disturb she was in the clear. Dancing was was one of the few ways she was able to escape reality not that she really ever needed to quite that often. It wasn't like her life was shitty or anything it's just that from time to time everyone needed an escape route. Some people wrote or others get lost in movies she well danced.

It wasn't you standard dancing either no she looked at as a form of art, as a way to tell a story through the sheer movements of your body. The music was the inspiration and she was both the canvas and the pencil. Today she was practicing a slower routine where she was a magician doing a show for kids. Utilizing a black top hat, a deck of cards and a cheap wand she moved with the music attempting to convey that she was doing an actual magic trick. As the music came to a brief pause she utilized facial expressions and subtle movements to show surprise.

Picking up after the pause with a blistering pace she began to twirl, swing and contort her body into an array of spins or acrobatics as if fighting some invisible force. Near the songs conclusion it slowed to small pulses of bass like thundering footsteps. Staggering forward as if she was injured she collapsed to the floor as if beaten at the songs conclusion ending her act. There she laid for what felt like hours as her muscles pulsated and ached from the sheer amount of activity she had just undergone.

“Wake up thilly billy you got thome mail,” a familiar high pitched voice rang through the studio. She immediately jumped to her feet as if she no longer felt any of the pain. A pale man in his early twenties was holding some sort of large envelope in his hand, a gleaming smile on his face.

“Oh my god is that what I think it is!” She screamed in excitement as he merely nodded still smiling at her. Running over toward him she ripped open the package to see the words accepted on her entrance letter into the dream study she had applied for. Throwing her hands up she and the pale man who happen to be her roommate jumped up and down squealing in excitement. They looked like a couple who just found out they were having a baby.

“This is going to be so exciting we have to go celebrating tonight!”

“Gurrrl I already got uth into club Velvet,” he said as the two embraced in a hug before making their way back to the small one story house they rented.

-----------------------------------------------------------

By the time she got home that morning it was already time for her to get ready to leave. Nothing beat having an early start to the day even if it meant not having any sleep, that negative was totally outweighed by the fact that she now had all day to meet all new people and start this cool journey. Plus the tiredness could easily be remedied. Reaching for a small little brown glass she dropped two dabs of liquid onto her tongue making her face contort from the foul taste.

Having no time to shower she bathed in a layer of her roommates Polo cologne and tossed whatever clothes she could find into a three different back packs, each shaped like a certain character such as Hello Kitty or Pikachu from Pokemon. Sliding one over her shoulders and carrying the other two in her hands she rushed out of the house. Her mind was running at such a speed that she was having trouble concentrating on anything. It would be an adventure just to find her gate.

The entire flight was a blur to her as she got to sit next to a small kid and his mother who seemed to think Ashley was some type of creepy pedophile based of some of the dirty looks sent her way. She figured the mom was just jealous that she could relate to the kid. I mean the mother didn't even know who Patrick was from Spongebob Squarepants! Overall the trip was fun even if she ended up having to throw out her lollipops due to them possibly being drugs. She liked her candy, but what was even the point with try to argue with security? They were just doing their jobs after all.

Tapping her fingers rapidly against her leg she waited for all the other passengers to leave the plane before she got up. She hated feeling like she held people up so it just was way more comfortable to go last plus it gave her time to say goodbye to the crew and say thanks for all their hard work. Not enough people seemed to realize just how cool it was that they were actually flying up in the air! It didn't matter that she'd be on planes multiple times it still just amazed her.

Sliding her brightly glittered headphones over her ears she skipped through the airport with her Pikachu and Yoshi backpacks flailing behind her. It always made her giggle seeing some of the looks people gave her. She didn't think she was that weirdly dressed today or really any other day. Her shoes were bright pink Chuck Taylor’s with lime green laces, a baggy pair of brown cargo shorts that she had drawn a bunch of smiley faces on and a Tie Dye shirt that spun around like a pinwheel. One day she had actually stared at the shirt for hours thinking about how a rainbow would taste. On her head was a Meatwad beanie that helped cover some of her bubble gum pink hair though plenty still escape through the sides.

She wasn't sure where she was supposed to go or who she was supposed to meet so her natural impulse was to stop in the nearest to see if they had any gum. Her teeth were starting to grind without her even realizing. Poking her head into a small book/magazine story she grabbed two packs of green apple Bubblicious gum and a Where's Waldo book that she promptly slid into one of her backpacks.

It was almost by chance that she bumped into a younger looking man who she guessed was attractive by most standards. The two exchange a brief smile and one of those silent sorry nods as she reached down to hand him a paper he'd dropped to the ground. Noticing the print on the paper she couldn't help squealing out in excitement as she tried to launch forward in an awkward hug that looked more like she was attempting to tackling him.

“We are in the same dream thingy! Oh my god are you as excited as I am? Do you like gum? I have some gum if you want some. Oh god I'm rambling aren't I? My brain is saying Ashley shut up, but my mouth is trying to break the new limit for word per breath!"

[Unhallow]

Greetings and introductions made, Isaac was slightly surprised at how easily the study's assistant redirected the conversation and integrated everyone. It wasn't that Isaac was antisocial or anything, most of the time he just didn't have all that much to say in conversation. He was a good conversationalist, he just wasn't good at small talk, so he was impressed at Joey's ability to make them feel relatively at ease as they walked. Listening more than he talked, he watched the man hop off to collect Miss Jovi and someone else, leaving him with the little group that had already gathered.

"New York, but I'm at school in Cambridge." There was never a good way to say he went to Harvard, and he never liked saying it. It always felt like bragging, and it always warranted an explanation he didn't really like to give--he wasn't what people thought when they thought Ivy League, and he knew it. Either way, he slid the conversation to the others. "You all?"

As Joey chatted it up on the phone, Isaac couldn't help but chuckle a bit. Someone was hot for teacher--and, by the look he was giving Abby, either serious enough about it to feel like flirting was comfortable or hot for plenty more than teacher too. And from the look of the girls that had shown up for the survey so far, there were some decent options available.

Not, of course, that he should be thinking about that right now.

As Nicolas made his way to them, Isaac chuckled slightly. There was someone with a sense of entitlement. "Glad you got it right, I'd hate to see you shit out of luck." He noted with a wry smile.

[Papercut]

Sophie blinked at Abby's outstretched hand for a few seconds, silently wondering whether the girl could be some kind of succubus under the guise of a prim-and-proper young American woman, the pretty, optimistic kind.

"Sophie. Nice to meet you too," she replied casually, retracting her hand only to bury it within the confines of her baggy jean pocket. She could already tell that the formalities would eventually take their toll on her. Hopefully stuffy silences and polite responses would give way to a relaxed, informal group setting. Eventually. "I'm from a small town in Illinois. It's not even worth mentioning, the population is probably smaller than this airport. I'm at art school in Chicago, though."

She didn't particularly enjoy watching people react to her choice of study. The polite expressions, the 'oh-that's-nice-dearie' responses. In today's economy, people obviously didn't think fine arts was too much of a worthy pursuit. Why learn to draw or paint when you could study neuroscience, or law, or computer engineering? Sophie winced a little after she spoke. She aware of the probable foreboding future, living rare commission to commission, paying off her college education for years, hardly making any money at all, unless she got lucky. But from her perspective, it was better than living in a cubicle and cranking out spreadsheets.

Her eyes followed Abby's towards the other guy on the phone. From the way he sounded, it seemed like he was talking to his girlfriend or another romantic interest. Sophie watched him wander off to find the other missing participants before bringing her attention back to the group, listening to the guy, Issac, talking about where he went to school.

"Harvard, huh?" she pondered, a small smile materializing on her face as she examined him for the first time. "No offense, but you don't exactly look the part. Or maybe I'm just seeing you on a day where you don't reek of high-society and pretentiousness. In which case, excuse me and my assumptions."

Sophie gave a small cough into her hand, banishing the possibility that she may of just insulted him.

She was dying for a smoke.