http://toariversodeep.livejournal.com/ (
toariversodeep.livejournal.com) wrote in
insertmeathere2009-11-05 08:54 pm
(no subject)
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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Something hits her in the back at high velocity. Something small and paintball-like because... yeah, there's a splash of red paint.
Sam bites his lip.
Grace shouts "DEAD!" and assumes the position of, well, death. Sniped!
"Linda?" she asks Sam.
"Yep."
Grace makes a pfff noise. Sam just continues to try not to laugh.
Sam looks over at Wyn. "Our sniper," he says, trying to keep his voice down now. No need to give the other team intel!
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Oh. Hello there Chief.
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And he's here now. He's awfully quiet for being seven feet tall and weighing half a ton. Anton's visible for a moment, having lead him up here, but the young Spartan immediately ghosts off into the trees to continue the game.
Sam shoots the Chief a slightly curious look, but gets no response. Grace watches patiently.
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"Sir," Sam replies.
"Follow me," the Chief says to Wyn. "I can get you back to the center where you can get out of here." He'll wait until she moves, then lead the way.
'Good luck', Sam mouths behind his back.
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