[center][h3][color=8FEEBD]Reza Widjaja[/color][/h3] [img]http://i.imgur.com/rq1zSRF.png[/img] [hr][hr] Location: [i]Seemingly, a luxurious jail cell.[/i] Interacting with: [i]Everything.[/i] [/center] [hr][hr] She turned over on her side, letting the comforter caress every inch of her body. It was akin to sleeping on a cloud. The silence was calming, only broken by her own rustlings. As she crossed the line from dreamless slumber to consciousness, a harmonious blend of serene and surreal seemed to engulf the room. [color=8FEEBD][i]Inhale.[/i][/color] Reza stretched out her arms and kicked her feet, tilting her head back and letting the air flow through her core. It was rejuvenating, like waking up late on a Saturday morning leaving behind a week's worth of torture. The atmosphere felt clean. Not sterile as if it were being pumped out from some high-filtered AC, but more like the air sitting above an empty parking lot in the middle of the night. [color=8FEEBD][i]Exhale.[/i][/color] She flattened out onto the mattress as a sigh of massive relief released itself and eased her awake. For a moment, her head sank into the pillow, then she rolled over onto her back. Her eyes ripped themselves open, and she gazed above to a massive concrete room. The ceiling and walls seemed to still themselves before her in an oddly stone gray. She felt like she was in a parking garage. She shot up from her bed and turned starboard, staring out into a very lively sea. The waves rocked back and forth under an open sky. The sun was nowhere in sight, but light still struck every surface outside. That entire side of the room was just one giant window stretching corner-to-corner, letting brightness settle on every surface in an otherwise gloomy setting. For a brief second, she smiled to herself. A thought of pure happiness lingered in her head as she became more cognizant of it all, almost letting her self settle into the room. [color=8FEEBD][i]Time to get the fuck outta here.[/i][/color] The mere thought of having to face the man who took her home bothered her. She wasn't about to do the whole polite post-hook-up morning routine with the hotshot that took up this spot. It would only ruin her mood. She peered over the edge of the bed, looking for her things on the black marble floor. Scrambling around the California king mattress, it looked like her purse, her clothes, her everything was missing. Her left eye twitched slightly as her nerves began tingling. She knew better than to panic, but sometimes, it couldn't be helped. Far beyond the foot of the bed stood an L-shaped leather couch flanking a glass coffee table. Further were two doors, one of which was open revealing an extravagant bathroom one would think belonged in a presidential suite and some bougie hotel. She planted her feet and stripped the comforter, covering her naked form as she traversed the room towards the other doorway. The floor was warm, possibly heated. [color=8FEEBD][i]I guess I can always get new shit.[/i][/color] She did a mental inventory of everything she would have probably taken along. Everything could always be replaced, and there was likely nothing that could bite her in the ass in the near future. She grasped the crystal knob of the closed door and slowly peered through, making sure it wasn't leading to the hallway or some other embarrassingly public space. The second she got her head all the way through, a powerful incandescent lightbulb erupted above her, illuminating a very well-stocked high-end walk-in closet. In the back, standing tall in the center of the wall, were three mirrors. Her eyes widened at the selection as she compulsively reached out and began feeling all the textures within her reach. Outfits for all seasons were organized on the racks, and drawers full of pricey neatly-folded lingerie mingled beside glass cases of magnificent jewelry. Heels and open-toed shoes sat beneath the hangers, and sneakers sat on the shelves above. Surprisingly, everything in there seemed to be her size. Reza scrambled, eventually settling for a solid black tank, daisy dukes, and a pair of Jordan Retro 3's. She almost felt bad for whoever's stuff she was picking, but the whole situation started to disturb her. It was unreal. It shook her up. A little disoriented now, Reza walked back out to the main room. [color=8FEEBD][i]What the fuck.[/i][/color] Sitting on the coffee table was a bottle of water, a pack of American Spirits, a white mini-Bic, and a stone ashtray. [color=8FEEBD][i]Don't fucking trust.[/i][/color] Tucked underneath was a note. She looked around the room in all its open space, secretly hoping there would be somebody there she could start a fight with. It felt like some kind of sick joke, some expensive and elaborate mind game someone was trying to play with her. Delicately, she slipped the note out, attempting not to disturb the other items like they were booby trapped. [center][hr][hr][h3][I][color=d3d3d3]The Grand Hotel and Casino of Saint Epipodius Dear whatever individual(s), Welcome to our not-so-humble establishment! Within your rooms you will find everything to make you feel at home, but don't get too comfortable! A meeting in regards to your current kidnappee status will begin at 8PM sharp, in the main foyer. Snacks will be available there, or at your room while you wait.[/color][/i][/h3][hr][hr][/center] She was furious. Anything that resembled fear and uncertainty in her rapidly dissipated, and anger flooded the void. She pocketed the items on the surface, and with what could have been hopeful defiance, threw the ashtray through it, littering the ground with glass shards. She turned around, facing yet another door that was not there even a minute ago, and, without hesitation, stormed out into an unfamiliar hallway as her red-bottoms left behind a trail of glimmers. [color=8FEEBD][i]Done with these motherfucking bougie-ass games.[/i][/color]