http://toariversodeep.livejournal.com/ (
toariversodeep.livejournal.com) wrote in
insertmeathere2009-11-05 08:54 pm
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You find yourself in a place.
This place, in fact, is somehow, inexplicably, a reflection of your own mind.
There are a few doors scattered around. They don't belong—they are styled to belong to other places. Stepping through the doors lets you visit the places like this that belong to the people you know.
What do you do?
This place, in fact, is somehow, inexplicably, a reflection of your own mind.
There are a few doors scattered around. They don't belong—they are styled to belong to other places. Stepping through the doors lets you visit the places like this that belong to the people you know.
What do you do?

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Joking aside, Terry's little, well, domain seems pretty stereotypically teen-aged-male-ish. Fragments of fantasies about girls and nice cars, school assignments bouncing around, everything incredibly cluttered and disorganized.
But there's one corner of his mind that stands out. It's the mouth to a near light-less cavern. Looking into it, you can see shadowy features. A bar-door like the ones you see in prisons, a smashed window and what looks like some sort of gang graffiti, an ambulance and the worlds 'HA HA HA' scrawled across a wall. And hanging overhead, all throughout the cavern, are hundreds of bats of all sorts of species.
And even if no one else can tell, Terry knows that the cavern's been getting bigger in the past couple of years.
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She doesn't seem impressed.
"How predictable. C+ at best." Satori judges the space idly, leaning out a bit further to peer into the dark corner. "Only one little corner is even remotely interesting."
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And don't think he doesn't see you peering into the cavern. He's keeping his eye on you, missy. He doesn't need, or want, people poking around in the darker side of his psyche.
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