The Eleventh Trial

[catcophonous]

Who: everyone
When: Day 23, evening
Where: The Trial Zone

[Just as twilight darkens the clearing, you hear the train's customary shift, the sign of a Trial.

Outside in the clearing, a brick building has appeared. It's shabby, paint peeling from the heavy door, but the windows are full of neon signs advertising various brands of liquor. From inside you can hear the thumping of bass, and the faint sounds of a rowdy rock song.

A voice chimes in, lazy but amused.]

You all know what this is. I'm not "come hither"ing you. Just get in here.

Comments

[awakenerd]

[He won't correct her.]

Uh, scratches, my emotions shutting off, getting wet and cold and ringing in my ears.

[voreaciously]

I suppose you will just have to bear it until it is all over. Perhaps a nap?

[awakenerd]

Not a bad idea.

[voreaciously]

There are effects that lsat and cannot be treated or cured, but you should at least attempt to manage what can be. Like drying yourself off and bandaging your injury.

[awakenerd]

Okay.

[voreaciously]

Would you do anything I ask?

[awakenerd]

I guess that depends on what you ask. I don't feel much, but I haven't gone stupid.

[voreaciously]

[She doesn't sound relieved or disappointed or anything.]

If that is the case, then it is just as well.

[god, don't have sex with anyone]

[awakenerd]

Why is that?

[voreaciously]

Though that is predicated on your ability to form sound decisions and that has been cast in doubt, however, if your sense remains within acceptable parametres, you cannot be convinced to undertake anything that may result in inconviences at best and calamities at worst.

[awakenerd]

Would anyone here try that?

[voreaciously]

[cael is a piece o shit that absolutely would if he were still here.

it may just be rean but the air grows a little colder]

You can never be certain.

[awakenerd]

I see, I'll be careful.

[voreaciously]

[temperature returns to normal who let the draft in here.]

If you wish.

[she is kinda worried about his cognitive stuff if he got that many things wrong tho]

I suppose I am wasting your time, now.

[awakenerd]

No, I appreciate the concern.

[voreaciously]

I am not concerned, Mister Rean.

[awakenerd]

Please no mister, you make me sound old.

[You ARE old Rean.]

[voreaciously]

And how old are you?

[awakenerd]

Does it matter? I don't have to sound old.

[voreaciously]

You are older than me and an adult, thus it is appropriate.

[awakenerd]

Do you hate me or something?

[voreaciously]

We have only just become acquainted.

[awakenerd]

I'm taking that as a yes.

I know I made a bad first impression, and I don't know how much apologizing will mean to you, but for what it's worth, again, I'm sorry.

[voreaciously]

[she's annoyed a bit, honestly.]

That is rather arrogant of you. Hatred requires dedication and effort and care. Hatred is knowing. Hatred is a livelihood. I do not hate you, do not be absurd. I do not know or care enough about you to hate you.

[awakenerd]

Sorry. I didn't put much thought into the word choice. Should I have said dislike instead?