Aeternum — Roleplayer Guild

Robert Moore
Day 2 to Day 5 - Catch up Post (Part 3)

Robert woke up with a massive headache. His bedding was rumpled and sweat-stained, and his clothes were soaked. As he expected, he was sore all over from the hard work before. What he didn't expect was to be thoroughly exhausted and nauseated. He wasn't exactly surprised to discover his current state though.

His dreams had been unpleasant, to say the least. He'd dreamed of fields of corpses ripening in the sun as birds fed, snakes slithered, and beasts feasted. He'd dreamed of the dead cursing him for living, for taking their things, for abandoning them, for not saving them. He'd dreamed of accusing eyes, suffocation, and heatstroke. He'd dreamed of smoke, collapsing buildings, and what it might have been like had he not been in the bunker. He'd dreamed of his family, of the asteroid, of wild beasts tearing him to shreds. He'd dreamed of being betrayed, being robbed, being murdered. 

Robert swung his legs off the bed and hung his head in his hands. His head was pounding, and he was feeling miserable, and way colder than before. He pulled out a few extra pairs of clothes and a coat and headed straight for the showers. 

The shower water was cold, as expected. At least it woke him up. Shivering, he struggled into his clothes. Somehow it seemed harder to keep his balance today. It was probably all the sore muscles and the headache. He made his way back to his room with his dirty clothes, tossed them on his bed, and stripped his sheets and blankets off the bed. He wrapped them into a sort of neat bundle and headed straight for the laundry room. He'd get breakfast after. 

After the washing machines started up, he went straight to the cafeteria for food. He didn't know what time it was, but he assumed he was up late. The cafeteria was mostly empty. Like yesterday, he wasn't all that hungry. In fact, the very smell of food made him feel sick. He decided to help himself to some warm soup instead for nutrition. 

Even then, he'd struggled to force down the soup. He thought about corpses again and his stomach turned. He managed to finish the soup, but started feeling even worse. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the table holding his stomach to try to warm it up in hopes of aiding his digestion some. He only felt more sick. He desperately held on, hoping that the nausea would start to lessen, but it didn't.

He quickly got up and all but bolted for the nearest restroom. Somehow, despite gagging a bit on the way there, he managed to reach a toilet without incident. He dry heaved for a few moments, then suddenly the food was coming back up. 

He stayed there with his head in the toilet for a long period of time. Every time he thought he was finally good to go, he'd start feeling very sick again. Eventually, he started feeling more human again, and washed up. To his immense pleasure, he made it back to his room with a roiling stomach, but without a need to stick his head in a toilet bowl again.

He looked at his clothes and then at the small amount of clean clothing he had left. He hadn't brought all that much clothing. Never mind, he'd better just keep wearing what he had.

The day passed, and Robert worked as hard as he could manage. There were more dead to move, more graves to dig, Some people spent effort on sorting through the possessions of the dead and putting them in neat piles and boxes. Clothing was laundered and stored away.

Robert wasn't sure when the "new" clothing would be passed out, but he wasn't sure he looked forward to that day. Robert listlessly picked through his meals and found to his misery, that he was unable to eat much at all without upsetting his stomach further. 

He knew he should force himself to eat. He knew that he'd need the nutrition. Unfortunately, he just couldn't manage to convince himself to do as he should. He had his massive headache to thank for that. It was hard to use his brain at all when it felt like he was constantly feeling his head pulse with his heartbeat.

Robert sighed and gave up on the fruitless endeavor and managed to find some vitamins instead. It wasn't a good replacement, but it was better than nothing. He gulped those down with cold water before stumbling to his room.

The next day, he couldn't even get out of bed. His dreams were constantly filled with horrors. At times someone was pounding away at his head with a rock, or a brick or a bat. At times he dreamed ants were slowly eating him alive and crawling into his ears to slowly eat his brain.

Sometimes he saw the dead, sometimes he saw the living. Whether dead or living, they all cursed him, chased him. He spent his dreams being hunted, eaten alive, cursed, murdered, and tormented. 

In his dreams he died in a myriad of ways. Sometimes he slowly died from disembowelment internal injuries, or suffocation. Sometimes he'd had his throat torn out, limbs ripped off, and had his head crushed. Sometimes he was stabbed from behind, beaten to death, thrown off cliffs, strangled, crushed, poisoned, or drowned. Sometimes he froze to death and sometimes he burned to death. The dreams never ended with death. Once he died, he'd become someone else, or continued his dreams as a lonely ghost or tormented soul.

Sometimes, in his dreams he would be forced to do terrible things. Sometimes he was forced to kill his loved ones, or be killed by his loved ones. Sometimes he was forced to watch them die. Sometimes he was forced to torture others to save himself. 

He hated the choices the most. He'd long ago believed he would make the right choices. He'd been convinced he wouldn't bend or break to others. To his deep shame, he bent, and even joyfully knelt, all in the name of survival. 

He learned about the depths of ugliness within himself as his dreams continued. 

He tossed and turned, moaning and groaning as he struggled with his nightmares. In his dreams, his surroundings were filled with uncertainty, danger, and hostile intentions. He could never quite tell who was friend or foe, and he struggled to deepen his understanding.

In his latest dream, he was cold and shivering. He was lost in a barren dead forest of ice. Every step he took cut into his feet. Thin rags were his only protection from the cold. The wind howled, snow blinded him, and pierced right through his threadbare rags. All around him, the wind seemed to roar, and chase him. The ice creaked and there was a faint sound of water spilling over the ice. 

The ice formations and the wind and water worked together to create a murmuring sound as he continued on. He desperately needed shelter. He climbed the ice leaving bloody prints behind him. The further he went, the louder the murmuring seemed to get. In the distance, he could see a burning mountain. Perhaps there would be a cave he could shelter in near there. At least if he approached it, he would have heat. He forged forward. 

The murmuring got louder, and his head began to ache from the cold. He tried to cover his freezing ears, but that left his torso open to the biting wind. He hunched over further in a sorry attempt to protect more of him from the wind. 

The wind nipped at his heels as the murmuring became the roaring of a river.  The mountain was far on the other side. He could see a fire. He needed the warmth. He had to reach the fire. He searched for a way to cross, but there was nothing. If he entered the water, he would die. If he stayed he would probably die. 

He hesitated, filled with indecisiveness. He looked behind him to find endless fields of ice.  Before him was a mountain of fire. There was no choice. He jumped into the river.

He was battered and shaken from all sides. The pressure increased and his body felt heavier as he sank. The raging river seemed to tear at his figure and he felt as if he would soon be crushed.

Robert's eyes flew open and he gasped for air as he shot up into a sitting position. He was drenched, but he had no time to register it or his surroundings. The pressure in his head held for a moment, and then burst.

There was an explosion of sight and sound. His mind seemed to expand out until it covered the bunker. Suddenly he was seeing through hundreds of eyes, from tens of perspectives. What seemed like hundreds of voices invaded his mind. Suddenly he knew so much, too much. He could feel everyone in the bunker, feel their minds, and for a moment, see into their hearts. For what seemed like forever, but was only a moment, he was connected to them all.

Intuitively, he seemed to understand what it was that he possessed and how to use it and the roaring voices went quiet as he erected a shield around himself. Like waves, the voices seemed to build up and pounded away against the temporary serenity he found. Desperately, he tried to hold his protections against the relentless force. He could not persevere.

A torrent of new voices flooded his mind and the innate knowledge he had was swept away in its current.

A wordless scream of fear and confusion blasted into the minds of everyone in the bunker for a moment before it cut off suddenly.

Robert's eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled like a puppet with his strings cut.

@Wick @King Tai @RumikoOhara @Kyrisse @Spinosaurus @Metronome @December @Venku @alexfangtalon

 Robert basically mind-blasted everyone with feelings of fear and confusion for a moment.

Other telepaths/psychics and people who deal with the mind and emotions may get more than just a blast of fear and confusion. People who are close (emotionally) and possibly even physically might also get more than that blast of fear and confusion. 

PM me for more info or so we can talk about what else certain individuals might get (if they want to) and figure out just what that info would be. (For example: Jae might know who it was that felt/caused the confusion/fear in his mind. Empaths might get more of the emotions and possibly even bits of what he's seeing. It will differ depending on powers and possibly proximity)
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