"I'm fine," Sam lied automatically. Most folks gave away their true emotional state by the natural modulations of their voices; fear could make the voice smaller, quieter, or anger might cause a growling effect or more forceful annunciation. This was not always true of Samantha Cole. What gave away her lie was the flatness of her tone. It was devoid of emotional effectors or influence. As she picked her way through the aging ruins of some of the older, abandoned buildings, she was inwardly curious about that tendency in her.
Samantha Cole displays a recurring reliance on emotional detachment and depersonalization disorder. Her file had said. The recurrence of such events is not wholly unexpected, and may be intentional in some cases. If it were true, this certainly was one case in which Sam wished she could choose to detach.
This area had clearly been used as a dump site after its shutdown by the city. Discarded electronics littered the streets, haphazardly thrown toward dumpsters which had not had pick-up service for what looked like months. The openings spilled over with refuse, and the cornucopia of unwanted items produced an unpredictable range of odors; some of the trash had been decomposing for so long that it no longer produced a smell. Sam zeroed in on a small pile which looked like it might contain mostly abandoned electronics and set to work sorting them into small piles.
"Watch your step," Sam muttered absently. "You don't want to fall here."
BlessedWrath Member
Guardian, Champion Class
STATUS: For the same reason it was able to gather its power, I will not bow to it. Freedom is for everyone; not just the loudest voice. 7 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- BlessedWrath 11 yrs ago
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7 yrs ago
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For the same reason it was able to gather its power, I will not bow to it. Freedom is for everyone; not just the loudest voice.
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7 yrs ago
In the wise words of Ebeneezer Scrooge: "Bah humbug."
1
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7 yrs ago
Sometimes, "cheap" is the most expensive thing you can do.
2
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7 yrs ago
Back in the RP Pool. If you have an idea (and it's not 100% smut) messag me! ^_^
2
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7 yrs ago
If you can't support your argument...you don't have an argument.
3
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Bio
I return from a long hiatus, in the hopes that roleplaying has once again returned to the art of inclusive storytelling. Prove me right and I will stay. Prove me wrong and I will go.
Most Recent Posts
I'm pretty sure it will take more than just Josiah to clean up this mess. At least...I hope it will.
"Idiot." Sam grumbled internally. "You've been caged too long. Should have seen that one coming a mile away."
Even though Sam had struggled with the concept of having enough money to buy things, the sudden loss of that power struck a nerve in her that she didn't know she had. She didn't even realize how her face had twisted up after the thief had robbed her. She felt embarrassed, weak, stupid. The event played back in her mind as one foot fell slowly, rhythmically in front of the other; each scenario with a different chain of events and, indeed, a very different ending. Without even the knowledge that it was happening, Sam was after the boy who took her card.
In her mind, she had him by his collar before he took two steps away from her. She jerked him backward in-stride, causing him to land on his spine. He had tried to apologize, but speech was difficult to accomplish with a mouth full of aged sneakers. The poor boy scrambled away from her, clawing at the ground to gain some kind of foothold, but she kicked his hand out from under him and helped his face to the pavement.
"Steal from me, will you?" she demanded of him, pulling back his head by the fist full of hair in her hand. Then she slit his throat with her stolen bank card.
By the time Sam came back to reality, she was alone. The bustle of the crowds and the market was still plainly audible, but faded, as if further away. She made it to be about two blocks' distance. How had she come this far without the memory of walking? A quick scan of her surroundings revealed a less-frequented part of the city with an industrial tint to its layout and architecture.
"Great." she scowled. "At least there are no crowds here. Maybe I can find a decent spot for some free gear."
It was all she knew. From the time of her release, Sam's only source of equipment, clothing...even food...had been what she could acquire from dumpsters and pick-up sites. The loss of her eight hundred dollars seemed to weigh less heavily on her mind, now that the prospect of gaining back some of what she'd lost when she had been abducted presented itself to her. For some reason, she hoped to find something a bit more handy than discarded sweatpants this time. It was the damnedest thing, but the concept of second-hand tools most appealed to her now.
The theft did still give her the occasional reboot of her bloody daydream, but it was all secondary now; all unimportant next to the hunt.
Even though Sam had struggled with the concept of having enough money to buy things, the sudden loss of that power struck a nerve in her that she didn't know she had. She didn't even realize how her face had twisted up after the thief had robbed her. She felt embarrassed, weak, stupid. The event played back in her mind as one foot fell slowly, rhythmically in front of the other; each scenario with a different chain of events and, indeed, a very different ending. Without even the knowledge that it was happening, Sam was after the boy who took her card.
In her mind, she had him by his collar before he took two steps away from her. She jerked him backward in-stride, causing him to land on his spine. He had tried to apologize, but speech was difficult to accomplish with a mouth full of aged sneakers. The poor boy scrambled away from her, clawing at the ground to gain some kind of foothold, but she kicked his hand out from under him and helped his face to the pavement.
"Steal from me, will you?" she demanded of him, pulling back his head by the fist full of hair in her hand. Then she slit his throat with her stolen bank card.
By the time Sam came back to reality, she was alone. The bustle of the crowds and the market was still plainly audible, but faded, as if further away. She made it to be about two blocks' distance. How had she come this far without the memory of walking? A quick scan of her surroundings revealed a less-frequented part of the city with an industrial tint to its layout and architecture.
"Great." she scowled. "At least there are no crowds here. Maybe I can find a decent spot for some free gear."
It was all she knew. From the time of her release, Sam's only source of equipment, clothing...even food...had been what she could acquire from dumpsters and pick-up sites. The loss of her eight hundred dollars seemed to weigh less heavily on her mind, now that the prospect of gaining back some of what she'd lost when she had been abducted presented itself to her. For some reason, she hoped to find something a bit more handy than discarded sweatpants this time. It was the damnedest thing, but the concept of second-hand tools most appealed to her now.
The theft did still give her the occasional reboot of her bloody daydream, but it was all secondary now; all unimportant next to the hunt.
Absolutely! I'm available on Skype or TitanPad, or through PMs here on the forum.
This is the image described in Sam's most recent post:
Had she been there for the rise of its popularity, there was an image of a certain feline internet celebrity which should have come to Sam's mind as she followed Jenna's gesture over to the gathering of people. Unfortunately she'd spent those days in a drug-induced delirium. The sentiment communicated by that image still resonated in her mind, however, as she imagined herself pinballing off the over-sized bellies of street goers as she tried to shove her way to the front. She scowled and silently resolved that she'd have no part of it. She'd wait until the rest of the group became interested in whatever it was that constituted a reason for dealing with all those crowds, then slip off on her own and do something important with her time.
That thought became less prevalent as the scent of fried goods and grilled meat forced its way into her nostrils. Her stomach turned traitor as well, gurgling its insistence that she visit at least one of the food stalls. For the first time since her "liberation", Sam realized that it had been quite some time since her last real meal. Even through the pungent odor of burnt toast, she had smelled the remnants of what she thought must have been breakfast back at the base, but she'd had her reaction to the halogen lamp before she'd gotten to eat any of it.
"Fine." She grumbled quietly. In retrospect, it likely would have been in her best interests to make her voice heard, but it was a battle between hunger and nature at that point; she cared nothing for human interaction, even if it meant the extended discomfort of hunger pains.
That thought became less prevalent as the scent of fried goods and grilled meat forced its way into her nostrils. Her stomach turned traitor as well, gurgling its insistence that she visit at least one of the food stalls. For the first time since her "liberation", Sam realized that it had been quite some time since her last real meal. Even through the pungent odor of burnt toast, she had smelled the remnants of what she thought must have been breakfast back at the base, but she'd had her reaction to the halogen lamp before she'd gotten to eat any of it.
"Fine." She grumbled quietly. In retrospect, it likely would have been in her best interests to make her voice heard, but it was a battle between hunger and nature at that point; she cared nothing for human interaction, even if it meant the extended discomfort of hunger pains.
I like the banners.
Just so y'all know, Sam's not exactly going to enjoy Abercombie & Fitch. You're more likely to find her out back of Radio Shack, salvaging outdated components.
Shopping good. I just wonder if it would turn Sam's eye.
Oh, jeez. I didn't think about that. I'm not sure I want to know what Sam's read would be.
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