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Forum Games and Roleplaying / I told them I could be anything...
« on: May 25, 2015, 07:27:34 am »
So I became a God.
The steady rhythmic clatter of a train running over tracks filled the carriage as scenery passed by, daubed orange and gold by the dying light of a setting sun.
It was to be your last chance to see a sunset in such a manner for some time, to see it filtering through distant trees, casting shadows over the farmlands that lined the train tracks. Oh, those farmlands had seen better days to be sure, but even parched as they were by the dry summer as it gave way to autumn, they were infinitely preferable to where you were going.
Your hands moved to the windows, pale skin - much paler than the average person your age - pressed to the windows as your hands left their mark. A thousand handprints left by a thousand people.
A thousand travellers over a thousand miles.
It was the mark they left, their way of connecting with those that came after them, sitting on the same thread bare seat they had used, facing the same plastic windows that bore the smudges of their passing.
As well as the occasional smiley face drawn in condensation and oils from their skin.
Amongst more unwholesome things.
Oh, what you would give to be able to bask in this moment a little longer, you told yourself as the rattle of the carriage over the tracks changed in pitch, as the farmland gave way, briefly, to the metal railings of a bridge.
Shadows and sunlight played across your features as you dared to smile, a hopeful smile as you told yourself that everything was going to be fine. The supportive girders that held this bridge firm's shadows gave way once more to unbroken sunlight as the dim orange glow started to dip beneath the horizon.
It would be night soon and you would be in an unfamiliar city, starting your new life.
This brought an uncertainty to you that you didn't care for, the grip of anxiety in your stomach that threatened to give way to panic as you tried to tell yourself that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. You had been uprooted, you were special, you were different, they wanted you to come down to London for tests, to make sure there was nothing wrong with you before they offered you work worthy of whatever talents you possessed.
At least that was the story you had, the reality of it was that you didn't know what exactly to expect.
You hadn't exactly had a choice in the matter, as the armed police officers at either end of the carriage attested to.
It was a "Ma-a'er o' Bri-ish Securee-tee" as they had put it to you and youhad little choice but to believe that they had your best interests at heart.
Heavens knew you needed a decent job though, a chance to bring in money that your family needed. A good job meant you could send some home, that you could see to it that your mother, your father, your sister could stop worrying about making ends meet.
No, no amount of distracting yourself was going to shake that anxiety now it had taken root, you needed to do something more than simply sitting there waiting for everything to fall into your lap.
"Excuse me?" you started as you rose from your seat, pulling the worn powder blue hoodie you wore a little tighter about yourself. "I feel sick, could I go to the bathrooms, please?" asked, in as polite a manner as you could. They had to keep an eye on you, but there was no reason for them to make your life hard if you showed them the same basic respect you would any other. They were just doing their job after all.
"Ah, can't hold it?" the one officer responded as they reached for the keys on their belt to unlock the door to the neighbouring compartment. "We're not that far from the station, but... But..." the man trailed off for a moment as he glanced out the window "Bloody vultures. Anyway, lets get you to the facilities before you're sick."
Even as the words left his mouth you glanced towards the window, hoping to capture a glimpse of the horror the man had so casually dismissed. "Vultures, out this early?" you mumbled, as you lurched towards the window, face plastered against it as you sought out the dark form of the bird in vain.
"Yeah, bloody things have been spreadin', they're not as bad as they used to be though. Stick mostly to eatin' pidgeons an' shittin' on tourists," the man laughed as he placed a hand on your shoulder - it was likely supposed to be a reassuring gesture, yet you couldn't help but feel small in tis moment, intimidated by the form of the man that towered over you almost claustrophobically. "Come on, maybe we can get you a bottle of water or somethin' if the staff are still servin'."
You could feel all eyes on you as you were marched out of the carriage, you form seeming small compared to that of the man behind you - a man that was twice as broad as you, as well as several inches taller than you.
A man that you were frankly glad to be away from as you ducked into the meager bathroom.
Was he more than human?
Was he one of those people that had been brought down here on a similar summons to yourself, given work and put out on the streets using whatever talents he possed to help safeguard the 'common man'?
You didn't know, you didn't think you wanted to either, as there was something off about him.
Slumping against the wall of the bathroom, you took a moment to glance at he graffitti that broke up the sparse, but grubby walls. Phone numbers, poorly spelled insults towards other people, pictures of genitals.
Lovely.
Humanity was still maintaining a level of charm and class that could only be described as inspirational.
It made you want to be a better person - than them.
It was a low bar to aim for, but it was one you could accomplish.
For the first time in what felt like hours, you reached to draw the hood of the worn garment you wore down, taking the moment to look in the mirror as your tired features looked back at you.
The question was, who was the person that looked back at you?
Were you male or female?
What colour hair framed your pale features?
What colour eyes, tired as they were, stared back at you?
What was your name?
The steady rhythmic clatter of a train running over tracks filled the carriage as scenery passed by, daubed orange and gold by the dying light of a setting sun.
It was to be your last chance to see a sunset in such a manner for some time, to see it filtering through distant trees, casting shadows over the farmlands that lined the train tracks. Oh, those farmlands had seen better days to be sure, but even parched as they were by the dry summer as it gave way to autumn, they were infinitely preferable to where you were going.
Your hands moved to the windows, pale skin - much paler than the average person your age - pressed to the windows as your hands left their mark. A thousand handprints left by a thousand people.
A thousand travellers over a thousand miles.
It was the mark they left, their way of connecting with those that came after them, sitting on the same thread bare seat they had used, facing the same plastic windows that bore the smudges of their passing.
As well as the occasional smiley face drawn in condensation and oils from their skin.
Amongst more unwholesome things.
Oh, what you would give to be able to bask in this moment a little longer, you told yourself as the rattle of the carriage over the tracks changed in pitch, as the farmland gave way, briefly, to the metal railings of a bridge.
Shadows and sunlight played across your features as you dared to smile, a hopeful smile as you told yourself that everything was going to be fine. The supportive girders that held this bridge firm's shadows gave way once more to unbroken sunlight as the dim orange glow started to dip beneath the horizon.
It would be night soon and you would be in an unfamiliar city, starting your new life.
This brought an uncertainty to you that you didn't care for, the grip of anxiety in your stomach that threatened to give way to panic as you tried to tell yourself that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. You had been uprooted, you were special, you were different, they wanted you to come down to London for tests, to make sure there was nothing wrong with you before they offered you work worthy of whatever talents you possessed.
At least that was the story you had, the reality of it was that you didn't know what exactly to expect.
You hadn't exactly had a choice in the matter, as the armed police officers at either end of the carriage attested to.
It was a "Ma-a'er o' Bri-ish Securee-tee" as they had put it to you and youhad little choice but to believe that they had your best interests at heart.
Heavens knew you needed a decent job though, a chance to bring in money that your family needed. A good job meant you could send some home, that you could see to it that your mother, your father, your sister could stop worrying about making ends meet.
No, no amount of distracting yourself was going to shake that anxiety now it had taken root, you needed to do something more than simply sitting there waiting for everything to fall into your lap.
"Excuse me?" you started as you rose from your seat, pulling the worn powder blue hoodie you wore a little tighter about yourself. "I feel sick, could I go to the bathrooms, please?" asked, in as polite a manner as you could. They had to keep an eye on you, but there was no reason for them to make your life hard if you showed them the same basic respect you would any other. They were just doing their job after all.
"Ah, can't hold it?" the one officer responded as they reached for the keys on their belt to unlock the door to the neighbouring compartment. "We're not that far from the station, but... But..." the man trailed off for a moment as he glanced out the window "Bloody vultures. Anyway, lets get you to the facilities before you're sick."
Even as the words left his mouth you glanced towards the window, hoping to capture a glimpse of the horror the man had so casually dismissed. "Vultures, out this early?" you mumbled, as you lurched towards the window, face plastered against it as you sought out the dark form of the bird in vain.
"Yeah, bloody things have been spreadin', they're not as bad as they used to be though. Stick mostly to eatin' pidgeons an' shittin' on tourists," the man laughed as he placed a hand on your shoulder - it was likely supposed to be a reassuring gesture, yet you couldn't help but feel small in tis moment, intimidated by the form of the man that towered over you almost claustrophobically. "Come on, maybe we can get you a bottle of water or somethin' if the staff are still servin'."
You could feel all eyes on you as you were marched out of the carriage, you form seeming small compared to that of the man behind you - a man that was twice as broad as you, as well as several inches taller than you.
A man that you were frankly glad to be away from as you ducked into the meager bathroom.
Was he more than human?
Was he one of those people that had been brought down here on a similar summons to yourself, given work and put out on the streets using whatever talents he possed to help safeguard the 'common man'?
You didn't know, you didn't think you wanted to either, as there was something off about him.
Slumping against the wall of the bathroom, you took a moment to glance at he graffitti that broke up the sparse, but grubby walls. Phone numbers, poorly spelled insults towards other people, pictures of genitals.
Lovely.
Humanity was still maintaining a level of charm and class that could only be described as inspirational.
It made you want to be a better person - than them.
It was a low bar to aim for, but it was one you could accomplish.
For the first time in what felt like hours, you reached to draw the hood of the worn garment you wore down, taking the moment to look in the mirror as your tired features looked back at you.
The question was, who was the person that looked back at you?
Were you male or female?
What colour hair framed your pale features?
What colour eyes, tired as they were, stared back at you?
What was your name?
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