Neko

[SIZE="1"]I think I'm gonna go ahead and take some action, here. Ilya isn't, by nature, a violent person, but in this environment, she's gonna have to learn fast, and this seems like a good time to begin, at least as a start. Plus, considering the nature of Ilya, Chase, and Chiyoko's personalities/capabilities, I don't think it's conceivable that we would be able to avoid Lon's death unless something pretty drastic and unusual were to happen. As a random string of off-topics, playing [I][U]Left 4 Dead[/U][/I] seems to give me a really good visual of what this kind of situation would look and feel like. Except with wolf-dogs instead of zombies, and minus the copious amounts of ammunition available in that game. As for Kata's new nickname, why not call him Skedar? Ten points for the reference! :catgirl:[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]As she looked up at Chase, extending his hand down to hoist her up even as Chiyoko somehow managed to get some footing on the statue and make her own way up, she saw the sky, the last hues of blue fading slowly to black. Nightfall had come earlier than expected. Ilya cursed her poor judgment of the time. Tucking her hand into the sleeve of the lab coat so as to make sure not to make direct contact with him, Ilya grabbed Chase? hand and closed her eyes as he hauled her up onto the statue. She allowed herself a moment to be surprised at the notion that Chase would help her, as opposed to simply leaving her for the dogs. Provided that they got out of this mess, she had to make sure to thank him later. Still, what an [i]awfully [/i]rude man! There was no need for such vulgar language, even in such a situation as this. No cultured, self-respecting individual should ever use foul language. [i]It reflects poor character, [/i]mother said. Ilya peered cautiously at Chase, careful not to catch his eye, lest she anger him by looking at him. He was endlessly self-confident, arrogant, rude, and seemed to be massively egotistical ? everything that her parents had raised her [i]not [/i]to be. And yet, she owed him the respect of one whose life has been saved by another, just as much as she owed Mr. Grosvenor her respect, as distant and sour as he seemed. But wait?if Mrs. Chiyoko was [i]here[/i], then surely Mr. Grosvenor wouldn?t be too far behind, right? Ilya looked down. One by one, pairs of glimmering eyes were beginning to gather around the base of the statue. She silently prayed that he wasn?t coming after them. Perhaps he was a skilled hunter, but, looking down, Ilya could only see certain death for anyone on the ground who caught the animals? attention. As Chiyoko grabbed hold of the tree branch and relocated herself into the nearby tree, Ilya wondered how this had come to be. The ferocity with which these wolf-dog-things had attacked made it clear, at least in her mind, that the world that she was now in was a dangerous one. ?Kill or be killed?. ?Dog eat dog?. She?d read the lines in so many books, but they?d always seemed so trite, so blatantly cliché and overly-dramatic. Looking down now into the eyes of the pack, which were slowly beginning to circle the base of the statue, Ilya saw, for the first time in her life, what the meaning behind those words was. This was an environment far removed from anything resembling her life up until now. Here, things were serious, and there was a very real possibility that any further mistakes she made could very well cost her her life. Her breath grew shorter ? she could feel the panic starting to well up around the edges of her mind. [b] ?If [i]I[/i] were you, I?d probably want to go ahead and get onto the roof right about now,? [/b]Chase noted with a matter-of-fact tone, indicating the ledge several feet away, accessible (if one could consider it that) through a hefty branch from the tree that Chiyoko was situated in. Ilya looked at the space, judging. It wasn?t that far away, and this statue wasn?t terribly tall (or at least, retrospectively, it could?ve been a [i]lot [/i]taller), but at the same time, her legs felt weak, she wasn?t good at balancing, and the height of the drop, while admittedly not that much, was still a good five times her height. And even if the fall didn?t kill her, it would probably leave her too injured to escape the dogs, who would? Best not to think about it. Even as horrifying as the prospect was, she could even now sense that she was losing her balance from the statue?s shoulder. She wouldn?t be able to stay in this position for very long. She nodded, cautiously, slowly maneuvering her way over to the tree branch. It was difficult, and she felt herself lose her grip a few times, but she somehow managed to safely get herself onto the branch. Doing her best to ignore the rising sound of growling coming from below, she carefully made her way out onto the branch, before hopping off and landing safely on the roof of the building. She swelled with pride for her accomplishment, allowing her heart to stop racing. [b]?What now?? [/b]she asked, looking down. The way in which the dogs below paced around the statue and the tree seemed to suggest that they would be perfectly happy to keep vigil until their new prey had to come down from their lofty havens. [b]?They?ll give up after a little bit to go find some easier food,? [/b]Chase shrugged nonchalantly. [b]?So,? [/b]he added brightly, with a defiant, sarcastic tone that suggested that he thought that all of this was some kind of game, [b]?Who?s up for a game of ?I spy??? [/b]Ilya was appalled. [b]?How can you say something like that at a time like this?!? [/b]she asked. [b]?We?re in danger, and we don?t even know what?s going on, where we are!? [/b]all of the questions and doubts that had been welling up in the back of her mind suddenly came pouring out without warning. [b]?What is all of this? Where am I, and how did I get here?? [/b][b] ?This sure is a hell of a time to be getting worked up over the details,? [/b]Chase muttered under his breath. [b] ?Ilya, please settle down for a moment, you?re going too fast,? [/b]Chiyoko said, trying to calm Ilya down a bit. [b] ?And lower the damn volume, while you?re at it,? [/b]Chase added.[b] ?Every animal within miles of here could?ve heard that.? [/b][b] ?The first thing I remember about being in this..this [i]place [/i]is waking up in some kind of frozen laboratory, having just come out of a [i]coffin[/i], and, and?-? [/b][b] ?That was your cryopod,? [/b]Chase cut in, as if this was perfectly obvious, [b]?Don?t you remember?? [/b][b] ?I don?t remember [i]anything [/i]like that!? [/b]Ilya sobbed. [b]?I?ve read about cryostasis, of course, but I?ve never been in a facility that supported that kind of technology! I fell down the stairwell at home! [i]That?s all I remember!!!? [/b][/i][b] ?You don?t remember being put into cryostasis? That?s odd, the doctors said there shouldn?t be any damage to our memories?? [/b]Chiyoko observed, recalling her own procedure. [b] ?She probably passed out when she took her little trip down the stairs or whatever,? [/b]Chase openly theorized. He swund his leg over the arm of the statue to get more comfortable as he situated himself to face Ilya. [b]?Alright, for the sake of shutting you the hell up, I?ll explain. I?m only gonna say this once, so pay attention and commit it to memory, like I [i]know [/i]you can.? [/b]Ilya nodded in response. [b]?Alright, they?d been freezing people for a while before?[i]this[/i]...happened,? [/b]he indicated [i]this [/i]with a sweeping arm gesture at the state of the city around them. [b]?I don?t know what time this happened to you, but a bunch of government leaders started up this thing called the ?Sustainable Future Programme?. You with me so far? Just checking.? [/b]Chase didn?t stop to check. [b]?They started putting exceptionally gifted, rich, or the sick and dying people into cryogenesis in hope for a better future or something like that. Judging from your?[i]abilities[/i]?I?m probably gonna say they put you in for the former, although if you say you passed out in your house, I suppose the latter could be equally possible.? [/b]All of this took Ilya completely by surprise, but somehow it rang true in her mind. She was aware of the program?s existence, and it certainly explained that nightmare that had been her first experience in this new world. [b]?So they just?put me into cryopreservation without asking me first?? [/b][b] ?You were unconscious, remember?? [/b]Chase said irately, as though he felt he was repeating himself too much. [b] ?Someone probably got permission from your parents,? [/b]Chiyoko offered, trying to be helpful. [b]?I?m sure they thought it would be in your best interest, considering the possible circumstances. They probably just put you into the program to help you.? [/b][b] ??Or to dissect your brain,? [/b]Chase added sarcastically, turning back around to face the street and keep watch for any change in the situation below. Ilya didn?t catch the sarcasm in Chase? tone, and the notion sent shivers down her spine. [i]Well, [/i]she thought to herself, returning her gaze downward, before averting it up into the sky as she saw the hungry gleam in the dogs? eyes, [i]now I know the truth about how I got here, at least. [/i]A tear welled up in her eye. To tell the truth, she wished she hadn?t asked.[/SIZE] [SIZE="1"][COLOR="DarkRed"]I don't know about this one. It felt kind of awkward to me. Tell me if anything about this post felt a bit...off to you too. On a side note, guess who managed to work out how to code paragraph indentation! :catgirl:[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I have work tonight, but I get back home at about 8:30 central time, and I'll be keeping an eye out for your post, Vicky. As soon as it goes up, I'll begin work on my next post. Expect it to be up either in the late night tonight, or in the mid-afternoon tomorrow, depending on whether or not I pass out at my keyboard while typing tonight. :catgirl: [B]EDIT:[/B] Alright, it's up. A bit later than expected, but it's up. If anyone's got a problem with it, just let me know, as usual. I figured it was about time Ilya learned how she got where she was. Also, did some more diddling around with my tricksy hobbit magics with making HTML coding my lapdog, and managed to produce something that almost resembles proper paragraphs. I'm assuming that the new chapter is going to more or less be the start of 'Day 1' of our adventure (assuming all this initial ordeal to be 'day 0')?[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I agree that going straight to the source would probably be the best choice to get the most accurate information, but the problem that I tend to have with these sights is that they have a tendency to talk about subjects and people, and use terminology that can't be easily understood by someone who hasn't been kept up to date with (or, indeed, doesn't know a thing about) the goings-on of the political and economic front. That's why I got the idea to come out of my little hole over in the Cultural District a few sub-forums over to ask you guys to explain it in a simple, easy-for-anybody-to-follow manner. I've been very pleased, and I believe I've learned a few things from those who've taken the time of day to stop and explain the situation to me. Thank you. :catgirl:[/SIZE]

[quote name='Nessaja'][B]EDIT: Also, Chiyoko feels really bad for not going to go look for Ilya.[/B][/QUOTE] [SIZE="1"] Don't worry ^^' This'll give Lon and Chiyoko some time to talk alone while Ilya and Chase are off at the lab.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]'bout $35. I'd say it was well spent, even though I don't play the thing. Gave me a healthy respect for people that keep the lights on when they sleep :catgirl:.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"][quote name='Mr. Blonde']It looks fine, Neko. Don't bother changing anything. He's perhaps a little more gruff then I would have made him towards Ilya. But I thought you handled it well overall.[/QUOTE] Ah, sorry about that :animeswea. I was taking your sign-up description of him to read as him being borderline unfriendly to people, as he prefers to be alone. My bad:catgirl:.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Hands-down, Fatal Frame II. Everything about the game just screams 'WTF NO!' from the sound, to the vibration (ALWAYS play with vibration), to the general look of everything, the way the camera filter is used, and the fact thatyou lack two very important things in a survival game, being 1) a weapon (I STILL don't think a mystic camera qualifies as a weapon, as it only works when enemies are really uncomfortably close to your face), and, more importantly, 2) a freakin' RUN button. Honestly, your character seems to have two speeds: 'walk slowly' and 'walk a little less slowly'. It's like the game's FORCING you to take your time and pay attention to all the details, when after a (short) while you REALLY don't want to. Myself, I haven't touched it in three months. I think mine's possessed by a demon. I swear it's like [I]staring[/I] at me from my game shelf. I ain't touching that thing. Srsly, gais.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Alrighty, post's up. Just trying to open up a bit of dialogue with Lon, for now. Katakidou - erm, I mean Mr. Blonde, please let me know if I made Lon act in a way you don't think he would've. I left Chiyoko alone trusting that Nessaja could better explain her cluster headaches than I can, and went off to put Ilya in a position for Vicky to have Chase come into contact with Ilya, because I love giving Chase even [I]more[/I] opportunities togo about belittling people who irritate him. At the same time, I put up a timeframe for everyone to get back inside Lon's shelter - a timeframe that I think would make for entertaining prospects if Chase and Ilya were not to make the deadline of. (just a thought, of course :catgirl:) At any rate, Vicky, during some point in this next exchange between the two, I feel it will be time for Ilya to say, as you so eloquently put it earlier, "We're real, dickface!" ...only, in her own manner, of course. I can't wait until the group starts conversing/arguing/whatever about what happened here, and what (if anything) they should do about it. :catgirl: [B]EDIT:[/B] Oh, yeah, and Dragons Wolfie, I'll leave it up to Vicky to judge your new entry, but I thought it might be worth noting that the link to your character's picture doesn't work.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"][COLOR="DarkRed"]Sorry for holding you guys up for so long. College has proven a more worthy adversary than I had anticipated, a sentiment to which I believe Vicky can attest. :catgirl:[/COLOR][/SIZE] [SIZE="1"]Ever since Chase had left, there was an air of unease between the two remaining inside Lon’s makeshift refuge. Lon himself maintained a distant, stoic expression as he went about the preparations of cooking the Lion meat, the look on his face making it obvious that he was not the type to indulge in idle chitchat. Equally silent, Ilya sat across from him huddled into a ball, keeping her thoughts to herself, and outwardly doing nothing but staring blankly into the fire, which crackled and spat on occasion, but was otherwise maintaining a healthy blaze. With the meal being prepared, out of necessity, in such a primitive manner, she had all the time in the world to gather her thoughts, now that the initial horrors of the day seemed to have, for the most part, passed. Two hundred twenty-seven years, seven months, two weeks, five days, seventeen hours, twelve minutes, and twenty-four seconds. According to what she’d felt from that statue back there, this was the [i]shortest [/i]amount of time she could’ve possibly been asleep. And, come to think of it, this was assuming that the statue had been struck by lightning upon the very moment of its completion, the odds against which were astronomical. Beyond that base number of over two hundred years, anything was possible. She could be hundreds, [i]thousands [/i]of years further into the future than she had predicted. There seemed to be nobody left beyond her and these three strangers, and given a timeframe [i]that [/i]vast…      …[i]anything [/i]could’ve happened. She shook her head, trying not to think about it. If it was true that she was among the only four people left on Earth, then momma and poppa…no, best to stop right there. She knew what she was getting at, but she felt almost as if thinking about it would somehow make it more likely to be true. Adjusting herself so that the lab coat better covered her, she stared into the fire even harder, in an effort to take her mind off of her current predicament. This worked for exactly sixteen seconds.[b] “…Tells me it doesn’t take any smarts to catch and cook up a meal in the wild,” [/b]Lon muttered as he continued his impromptu meal. [b]“…well, we’ll see who’s well-fed in [i]these [/i]conditions by the end of the day.” “Um…th-thank you for saving me from that lion, Mr. Grosvenor,” [/b]she said suddenly, trying to engage in conversation with the expressionless hunter. The old man looked down at her briefly while his fingers nimbly continued to work at preparing the ‘meal’, if it could be called that.[b] “Just catching dinner, kid,” [/b]the man said gruffly, glancing briefly at her before turning back to his work. [b]“Y’just happened to be there.” “O-oh…” [/b]Ilya trailed off, startled and uncertain whether she should feel comforted by this. [b]“Well, thank you still, in any case.” [/b]She bowed politely. The hunter absentmindedly nodded, the lines in his face showing his age, his weariness. He was old, but there was no sense of weakness about him. This was a strong man, well-lived. [i]His life must be quite a story, [/i]Ilya thought to herself as Lon continued to cut the meat of the Lion from its flesh and bones. She averted her eyes; this wasn’t the sort of thing she was used to seeing, and she found it somewhat grotesque. Silence continued as Lon began holding a chunk of Lionmeat over the fire with a stick. It was the sort of silence that Ilya liked to think in. She closed her eyes and nodded to herself slowly, sorting out what she knew. 2149. The year marked on the calendar she had seen in that hellhole she had woken up in. Common logic dictated that if that place had indeed been some kind of laboratory, she would expect that the people there would’ve been keen to keep the date, month, and year accurately. It was obviously not 2149, but the calendar had remained on that page. So, she concluded, the [i]something [/i]that had happened here had occurred during that year. People had been gone, at least from this area, a mere seven years after she had gone unconscious; two hundred seventeen years, seven months, two weeks, five days, seventeen hours, twenty-nine minutes, and fifty-six seconds, at the very very least. She wasn’t particularly well-educated on advanced biology, certainly not in long-term progressive natural growth, but from what she’d seen outside, she strongly suspected that the numbers were, in fact, far larger. And all this was neglecting an even more puzzling question: how had [i]she [/i]come to be in a place like this in the first place? The last thing she recalled before her awakening here was feeling suddenly weak, and falling down the grand stairwell at home. She had awoken to this; what seemed to be an overgrown city, devoid of human life, and apparently two hundred twenty-four or more years later than her last consciously-formed memory.[b] “Now that there are other people here, I suppose this lion gets split five ways,” [/b]she heard Lon mutter under his breath, breaking her concentration. He didn’t sound particularly happy about it.[b] “I’m sorry that we’re imposing on you like this,” [/b]she apologized. [b]“…If it’s a burden, please don’t feel obliged to accommodate [i]me[/i], at least.” [/b]Lon handed her the first piece of cooked meat. [b]“Shut up and eat. Looks like it’s just us four here, n’ I don’t need a kid dyin’ of hunger on my conscience.” [/b]He sounded irritated, but he was offering it to her nonetheless, and it would be rude not to accept it.[b] “Thank you, sorry…” [/b]she didn’t know what to say first, as she gingerly accepted the food. [b]“…thank you.” [/b]It wasn’t quite what she was expecting, but the Lionmeat was filling at least, and with some food in her stomach, she felt refreshed. There was plenty of Lion to go around, but she probably wouldn’t be able to eat anymore. She simply huddled closer to the fire, taking in the smell of cooking meat and basking in the warmth of the blaze.[b] “If you’re full, you should get the others,” [/b]Lon said after a few minutes, still cooking up hunks of fresh meat. [b]“It’ll get dark soon, and out here in the wild, the night is when the [i]real [/i]predators come out.” [/b]The prospect sent chills down Ilya’s spine. [b]“They can’t have gone far, but you’d best hurry, just to be safe,” [/b]Lon added indifferently, almost as though he couldn’t really care less if any of them made it back. Ilya nodded hesitantly, before getting up and taking a peep out the doorway of the makeshift shelter. Chiyoko was crouching down nearby, clutching her head tightly. She looked like she was in pain, so Ilya ran over. [b]“Are you okay, Mrs. Chiyoko…?” [/b]she asked, beginning to put a hand on her shoulder before stopping. No telling what she’d see, and it would be better to ask permission first. Chiyoko didn’t seem to hear her, and she repeated herself a few more times. [b]“Mr. Grosvenor said we should come inside, and that it’ll be getting dark out soon,” [/b]she urged, looking upward. The sun was still fairly high in the air, but she could still tell that nightfall would be approaching swiftly, soon.[b] “I…I-I’ll be…in in a b-bit...” [/b]Chiyoko managed to say, gritting her teeth to get the sound out. [b]“D-don’t worry…I’ll ex-plain later,” [/b]she added. Ilya nodded. She set about searching for Chase. She suspected the first place he’d go would be back to that lab-like place, and the lingering smell of smoke that she followed seemed to attest to this, so she set out to find him before it got dark.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Sounds like you've got quite the grand master plan set up :catgirl: And yes, if it's something you believe Ilya would've heard (I.e. information that an 11 year old Russian-raised girl would hear about), by all means, fill me in, and if you feel a desire to, even tell me in what way you wish for me to bring these things into play in the storyline. I'll work with whatever you (or anyone, for that matter) give me to the best of my ability. I'm working on the next post, and should have it done at some point tonight. At any point, if there's anything I should know, just PM it over to me, and I'll modify my post accordingly. :catgirl:[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Ilya looked on with increasing confusion and, more prominently, horror, as Chase looked around outside. Now that she was more fully alert, she was beginning to take in some of her surroundings. What she was beginning to see simply did not add up in her mind, which was running at full-tilt to try to make sense of what she was looking at. The word ‘overgrowth’ briefly came to mind, but even that fell short as a gross understatement. Everything was gone. No, that wasn’t quite right, either. There were still buildings, or in some cases the skeletons thereof, and there still seemed to be a road and a sidewalk, but beyond that, not much else. Grass came up through cracks and divots in the pavement, vines crept up, into, and around building infrastructure, vegetation ran rampant everywhere it could. Also, she noticed, the air seemed…[i]fuller[/i], or possibly[i] cleaner. [/i]As though somehow, in the seeming absence of pollution, the amount of oxygen in the air had increased. And all around, everything hung with an unfathomable sense of [i]time[/i], something Ilya alone could feel the pressure of with complete alacrity. This wasn’t her home at [i]all[/i]. And, she was beginning to feel more and more certain, this wasn’t her [i]time [/i]at all.[b] “Miss Chiyoko…?” [/b]she looked up at the woman standing next to her, who seemed to be throwing Chase a contemptuous glare. As soon as she heard Ilya’s voice, she looked down, smiling apologetically.[b] “Yes, erm…Ilya, was it?” [/b]she responded.[b] “Where are we?” “I’m not entirely sure…” [/b]Chiyoko trailed off, taking in their surroundings. Then, seeing the beginnings of a panicked outburst from Ilya, Chiyoko smiled in reassurance. [b]“I’m sure we’ll find someone who can explain all this eventually. Shall we head over there to check out what [i]he [/i]wants?” [/b]she added, nodding her head off in the direction that Chase had gone off to. There was a note of apprehension in her voice. Ilya didn’t enjoy the prospect of seeing more of this crazy place, and she certainly didn’t want to see anything that terrifying man had to show her, but she also wanted to know more about what was happening (as much as the thought scared the living daylights out of her), and standing around wasn’t going to accomplish anything. [b]“Here, I’ll go first. Is that alright?” [/b]Chiyoko offered, extending a hand. Ilya backed away a step, looking down.[b] “Please, no touching,” [/b]she apologized. She didn’t want to…to [i]see[/i]…without telling this woman first, but she didn’t want to reveal herself that much, yet. [b]“…thank you for offering, though,” [/b]she added with a bow, not wanting to offend. She followed Chiyoko outside, and was greeted by a warm sunlight and a light breeze – nothing like her home in Russia. It was incredibly warm out; about fifty or sixty degrees, she guessed. As the last of the cold melted away from down in that [i]dungeon [/i]of a place, she almost felt at ease about things, until she looked around. It seemed an abandoned city, or something like that. She had only read stories about abandonment, had only really seen cities in picture books and history books from her old teacher, but she was quite certain that this is what the two would look like put together. It sent chills down her spine. Cities were, from what she’d read, places where great concentrations of people gathered. Where, then, had everybody gone? None of this made any sense.[b] “Jeeze, it took you long enough.” [/b]Chase was standing at the base of a statue, looking slightly uneasy, but still arrogantly confident, nonetheless. Ilya looked up and gave a small yelp as she saw a large, decrepit-looking bird glaring down at her.[b] “Relax, it’s just a vulture,” [/b]Chiyoko said, but there was a waver in her voice, and Ilya noticed that she took a slight step back herself at the sight of the ugly bird. [b]“So,” [/b]she directed her attention to Chase, with some resentment. [b]“What do you want?” “C’mere, Alice,” [/b]Chase said, ignoring her. Ilya had read the story [i][u]Alice in Wonderland[/i][/u], but only the Disney version, and wasn’t too sure she was comfortable with being associated with such a character.[b] “Um…Please, Mr. Chase…my name is Il-” “Dammit, kid,” [/b]Galileo cut in,[b] “if you’re a figment of [i]my [/i]imagination, [i]I’ll [/i]be the one that decides what to call you, alright?!” [/b]Ilya took a step back, frightened by the man’s aggressive tone.[b] “Hey, cool it already, will you?!” [/b]Chiyoko stepped in angrily. [b]“She’s just a kid, you’re scar-” “Please,” [/b]Ilya said, surprised at her own rudeness. [b]“…Forgive me for interrupting, Mrs. Chiyoko, but it’s alright. I’ll do as Mr. Chase says.” [/b]Not wanting to upset him any further, she stepped forward until she was only a foot or two away from him. [b]“How may I be of service to you, sir?” [/b]she bowed slightly. [i]Never make eye contact with your superiors unless given permission, [/i]her mother had told her once, educating her in proper etiquette. [i]It is unbecoming of a sophisticated young lady such as yourself.[b] [/i]“Alright, cut with the polite bullshit, it’s beginning to get on my nerves,” [/b]Chase growled.[b] “I’m sorry, sir,” [/b]Ilya replied simply.[b] “I thought I told you to – Oh, nevermind,” [/b]Chase shook his head in irritation. He turned his attention to the statue they were standing in front of. [b]“Anyways, see this statue here?” [/b]he nodded at the sculpture. Ilya nodded. [b]“How old do you think it is?” [/b]Ilya jumped a bit at the notion that he wanted her to see how old it is. Did he know…? No, no, that was impossible. There was no way he could have guessed, just from her telling him how old she was.[b] “Really…old?” [/b]she offered, trying to play it safe, just in case. She saw the anger in Chase’s eyes, and she knew she’d made a mistake.[b] “Don’t screw with me, kid,” [/b]he growled. [b]“You listed off your name to the [i]hour [/i]back there, and I’m sure you would’ve gone even further if I hadn’t shut you up. I’m finding it hard to believe that anyone’d just throw out numbers at random at a time like that, so you must’ve really known that accurately. So tell me, and give me a nice, [i]juicy [/i]answer.” [/b]She hesitated, but there was no choice. She placed her hand on the stone, and she felt the immeasurable stretch of time that it told her. What she saw confused and greatly troubled her.[b] “This statue was erected on June tenth, year twenty-one thirty-five at two thirteen and six seconds PM.” “That’s around fifty years after I went under,” [/b]Chase muttered under his breath.[b] “But…but there’s a problem,” [/b]Ilya added hesitantly.[b] “What’s that?” [/b]Chase said gruffly.[b] “…Unless what I’m feeling is wrong…the head of the statue was destroyed when it was struck by lightning two hundred thirty-five years, seven months, two weeks, five days, sixteen hours, forty-three minutes, and fifty one seconds ago.” [/b]Those words hung in the air for a few seconds while Ilya did some quick math.[b] “…I can’t give an exact time, but this statue can’t be any less than two-hundred thirty six years old.”[/b][/SIZE] [SIZE="1"][COLOR="DarkRed"]There you go. That should give the others a good estimate of just how far in the future we are, how long we've been 'gone'. Of course, the numbers are off, but it's the best Ilya could give with what she knew. If my math is correct, we're actually much further in the 'future' than even that, correct?[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Sorry if this has been done to death and you're tired of it, guys, but I've been sitting here in the dark since the campaign even started, and voted for Obama mainly due to how strongly his speeches resounded with my own ideals. This is NOT a 'Who's better than who' spamfest. I'll repeat that again, in bigger text, to make it perfectly clear. [SIZE="3"] This is NOT a 'Who's better than who' spamfest.[/SIZE] I wanna talk about economics. At least, I THINK I do. See, here's the deal. During the campaign, a lot of kids at school were complaining that Obama's policies were going to turn America into socialism. A lot of [I]other[/I] kids retaliated against this statement by saying that McCain's policies were like communism. And here I am, in the middle of all this, because I'm not well-enough informed in the subject to make an opinion of my own. What this thread is about is the sources, numbers, and theories behind these statements. I know that these claims are probably ridiculous, but nonetheless, even a misfounded opinion has its basis somewhere, and I'd like to know what those stems are. Now, I know that politics and the economy is a bit of a spiky subject, but I don't want anyone to come in here and start a ruckus. This is nothing more than a presentation of opinion, or impartial evaluation of these said opinions. While you present your side of the facts, present them making these assumption that you're talking to the average, uninformed kid (I.E. me). I am 18 years old, a normal college student, and damn near failed economics. Present your case thusly.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I'll take you up on the next post, Vicky!:catgirl: My previous post was a bit rushed and I didn't have time to develop my position in our little group as well as I would've liked, so this is a good chance for me to flesh out Ilya's character a bit more. As a side note, do NOT try to write for this (or any serious-toned fic, for that matter) when you're using the caramelldancen skin. It's IMPOSSIBLE to pay attention to what you're doing for more than three minutes. (I just read up up on the Des' April Fools' prank about three hours ago (because I'm inattentive), and have been using that skin and listening to that song since.) [COLOR="DarkRed"]Also, I'd just like to say now that if I *ever* misportray or contradict anyone's character or post, PLEASE let me know and I'll change it as necessary.:catgirl:[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Warmth. Ilya could feel the sensation before she was even awake. The feeling of warmth – true, natural warmth, like the kind she felt when she sat near the enormous fireplace at home. [i]Oh, no, [/i]she thought to herself, [i]I fell asleep by the fireplace again. Poppa will probably be lecturing me again. [/i]Gradually, her strength came back to her. [i]What a strange nightmare I had last night, though…[/i]she thought, recollecting that horrific dream that she’d been stuck in some kind of abandoned underground laboratory. Then she opened her eyes. When she wasn’t greeted by a soothing morning view of the front gates in the distance through the living room window, but rather a damp, cracked ceiling, dripping in places where the cracks reached all the way to the rooftop, she remembered that her dream hadn’t been a nightmare at all, but a horrible reality. She glanced around wildly, and saw that she was lying next to a fire.[b] “…Look, she was in danger down there! The poor thing was about to freeze to death, and-” “I already told you, it’s not like I [i]care [/i]or anything. But just because you’re a figment of my imagination doesn’t mean you can go around picking up all my other imaginary friends,” [/b]a man’s voice cut in, his tone mocking anger, though it was apparent that he was on the verge of breaking out in laughter. Ilya slowly picked herself up soundlessly, propping herself up by her elbows to get a better view. The first voice belonged to a young woman who wore a look of mild irritation, and, Ilya noticed with embarrassment, seemed to be completely in the nude. The woman was addressing the source of the second voice, a striking man with intimidating but sleek features.[b] “Hoo, boy, this is pretty crazy, huh,” [/b]the man whistled under his breath. [b]“First I imagine up some chick, then that chick goes off and finds me [i]another [/i]imagined chick.” [/b]He giggled to himself, considering his perceived situation. [b]“I must be some sick fucker.” [/b]He glanced down at Ilya, seemingly unaware that she was looking back up at him. [b]“Huh. Well, at least this one’s [i]wearing [/i]something, fer Chrissakes. You should put some clothes on,” [/b]he added to the woman, eyeing the overcoat Ilya was wearing that looked as though she had borrowed it from a scientist.[b] “You [i]burned [/i]mine, remember?!” [/b]she responded angrily, pointing an accusing finger at the fire. Ilya looked, and indeed saw the last remnants of a sleeve go up in flames before turning to ash. [b]“Oh, nevermind, I don’t even know why I even bother…” [/b]the woman turned around angrily, concealing her…feminine attributes as best as she could. Ilya felt that it was perhaps at this time that she should make her presence known, before the situation got anymore out of hand. She hated fighting, after all.[b] “Um…excuse me?” [/b]she started, her voice barely carrying above the dull crackle of the fire. The two both turned to look at her. The woman walked over to her and carefully crouched down next to her.[b] “You’re awake, thank goodness. How are you feeling?” “Um…o-okay, I suppose…” [/b]Ilya responded, looking over herself briefly. Just a couple scratches, nothing serious. She was still a bit cold, but the fire was taking care of her on that account. [b]“O-oh, I forgot!” [/b]she jumped up, buttoning the overcoat quickly so as not to expose herself at all. She faced the two and bowed deeply, adding a makeshift courtesy at the end with the ragged hem of the coat. [b]“Please forgive my rudeness. My name is Ilyasviel von Einsbergh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” [/b]She looked up expectantly, hoping they would accept her introduction.[/SIZE] [SIZE="1"][COLOR="DarkRed"]Ilya' taking a quick break from panic-mode to make introductions, but please keep in mind that she still has a lot of freaking out to do as she continues to see more of what her surroundings are like. Confusion and fear are what I'm thinking of. Please just keep this in mind :catgirl:[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Ack, sorry this is taking so long, guys. I'm working on my next post as I type this ('cuz I'm just multitalented like that :animesmil), and it should be up within the hour. [B]EDIT:[/B] Katakidoushi PM'ed me for my okay before posting his section, just so you guys know. ^^ Oh, and to Dragon Wolfie (or to anyone else that may be looking at this, for that matter) by all means, do continue to work on sign-ups! From what I understand, Vicky is still leaving this open for new blood-erm, I mean, more people. So got to town with it!:catgirl:[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"][quote name='Vicky'](Neko, you damn cheat =p I wish I could use HTML, haha, looks lovely though)[/quote]:animecry: Heeey, if I'd'a known you'd like it, I'd'a put up the code right away. It took a lot longer than it should've for me to do, even though all I did was dice up your title picture and make a sider out of it. The coding DID take a bit to get working properly, though.:catgirl: [CODE]< table border=1 align=center >< tr >< td >< table align=center width=550 background="http://fc14.deviantart.com/fs39/f/2008/318/e/9/Population__Zero_by_Mieruru.png" style="background-repeat: repeat-y" >< tr >< td width=70 >< /td >< td > YOUR POST HERE < /td >< /tr >< /table>< /td >< /tr >< /table >[/CODE] Just use that outline for your posts, and you can have the supah-sexay sideline, too :catgirl: As far as I know, all of the Board's tags that you normally use should still work. Just take the spaces away from the < > tags, and everything should work out dandily. [B]EDIT:[/B] Don't worry, Nessaja, your post was fine. :catgirl:[/SIZE]

Awesome. ^^ I'm totally enjoying this already, and now that the initial group is all in one place, things should be progressing along fairly smoothly...minus the fact that each of us is a varying degree and type of totally whacko. Feel free to have Ilya wake back up in your post if you'd like, Vicky, I don't care how. I'll be looking out for new posts in the story until well past my bedtime. :catgirl:

[SIZE="1"]As she slipped, going down that familiar stairway, that familiar descent to the front door of her home, the last thing she thought before fainting was that she was quite certain that this time, she was definitely going to die. [CENTER]*[/CENTER][i] Thud[/i]. She landed wetly on a hard, white-tiled floor, nothing like the lavish carpeting she had expected to run into. Panicking, she tried to stand, but only made it up to her hands and knees. She looked around, shaking with fear and confusion. Where just a second ago she had been in her home, a dark room now laid out around her. The room was dimly-lit, not for lack of lights, but for lack of lights that were still functioning. Two ceiling-inlaid lights glared a blinding white, illuminating only small portions of the room she was in. Three more lights flickered sporadically, throwing monstrous shadows here and there, creating monsters in the corner of her eyes that appeared and vanished in an instant. All of this, she perceived in the first moment her vision had begun to return to her. She screamed. Or, at least, she tried. What she managed was a breathless gasp that preceded a collapse onto the floor. She coughed up a large amount of clear, gel-like fluid that tasted vaguely chemical. A tear began to roll down her cheek before crystallizing right there on her face. And at that moment her sense of touch returned to her, and brought with it such a powerful pain that she spasmed, her muscles seizing up and sending her into a fit on the ground. Gradually, the spasms subsided, though the pain did not. She panted against the icy floor, her breath clouding the surface before crystallizing on it. She began to recognize the pain for what it was. It was [i]cold[/i]. It was cold beyond anything she had ever experienced before in her life. Cold like winter at home in Russia ten times over. Cold that froze so thoroughly that it felt like burning; cold like a white fire. Cold like silence. Cold like death. As her nerves started functioning again, she felt her bare skin against the cold of the floor. She slowly picked herself up, limbs shaking from the cold. She felt her skin peeling reluctantly off of the smooth, hard surface of the tiling.[b] “Mo…m-m-momm-ma…” [/b]she cried weakly, her voice returning to her. The sound echoed off the steely walls around her and returned eerily. [b]“M-momma…poppa…w-where are y-you…?” [/b]No response. Hearing came back to her next. Her voice carried far and long, coming back as an echo for eleven seconds. There was a dripping sound, and she was numbly aware that she was dripping condensation. Why? Why was she here, in this frozen hell? As she looked around, she began to take in more of her surroundings. The more she saw, the more she wished she hadn’t. Cords and wires ran across the floor, scattered carelessly about, connecting to what looked like heavy machinery or any one of the forty-some computers that were lined along the desks. Like the lights, the majority of the monitors were dark. A few flickered haphazardly, and only one was still somewhat bright. Dust thickly covered everything, and drifted heavily through the air, visible all-too-clearly in the sparse lighting. She coughed sharply with her next breath, and tasted blood in her mouth. She was in far too panicked of a state to commit any of this to memory. A dream. Had to be a dream. No other explanation. No way this was happening. A nightmare. But the pain was real. Everything felt real. There was no denying it: this was the reality she had woken up into. She took a few shaky steps forward before her legs gave out again. As she landed, panting, on the floor again, she felt something tugging painfully back at her from under her skin. She looked behind her and saw several cords going into her [i]body [/i]from the inside of a steel coffin that gave off a faintly blue aura from the inside. Her eyes widened in frenzied terror, and she scrambled forward, fear and adrenaline overriding the pain as, one by one, the wires dislodged themselves from her flesh. A dark monitor beside the coffin briefly flashed her vital signs from under a thick coat of dust before going absolutely dark for the last time.[i] This isn’t working, [/i]she thought to herself after settling back into her wits after a minute of helpless panic. [i] I have to figure out what’s going on here. [/i]She picked herself up from the floor again, shaking herself off, trying in vain to warm herself. She slowly walked towards the computer that still seemed to be working, and felt one last cord begin to pry free of her arm. She yanked at it, and it came free, trailing a clear, viscous fluid. She wiped away the frost on the screen and numbly stared at the monitor that was still blaring brightly, the light even now overloading her still-recuperating eyes. She blinked a few times, rubbing at her eyes, before giving it another go.[u] Subject: Ilyasviel von Einsbergh Condition: Stable Mental State: N/A Cryoprotectant Levels: normal Updating in 53 seconds… [/u]The timer didn’t go down. In fact, the entire system was unresponsive. It was impossible to determine what time it was. And that’s when she realized it. [b]“What…w-what time is it?” [/b]she asked herself. She always, [i]always [/i]knew exactly what time it was, but now, all she knew was that she had been awake here now for three minutes and twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four seconds. [i]I…I have to get out of here, [/i]she thought to herself, holding back a sob. She turned back toward the coffin-like object, the faintly-blue glowing machinery all around, as if in some last hope that someone might jump out and yell ‘just kidding’ from behind something. The sliding door that led out of the room was narrowly open, and as she approached it, she smelled a powerful odor coming from the other side. She shuddered, but the almost instinctual need to get out of this room before she died of hypothermia briefly overpowered the manic fear that had taken hold of her. She forced open the door – it was easier than she thought it would be, because the mechanical systems that held the door in one place didn’t seem to be functioning. She peeked around the corner, apprehensive, before braving a few steps into the next room, using the walls to keep her balance. Everything was worn away, covered in rust and greenish mold, or covered in dust. Her hands were filthy with the detritus covering the wall, and the floor was a mess of broken tiling, roots, fungus, and, she discovered with a wet snap and another scream, a dead rat. There was a briefly clean section of wall near the door to the room she had just come out of that had the word ‘cryopres’. The rest of whatever the word was had been scoured by who knew what. She continued on, exploring the dank, sparsely-lit room, her shaky limbs betraying her increasingly terrified psyche. Still so cold… One area was more brightly lit than the rest of the room, and had a few shelves lined up in the center. The wear seemed minimal here. There were many doors in the shelves, but she couldn’t open them. There were numeric pads on them; they must be lockers. She found what she suspected was hers – she could just barely make out the letters ‘el von Einsb’ on the front plate. Her locker was open, and her clothes were neatly folded inside. She reached in and grabbed gingerly at the fabric. It crumbled away at her touch like it was dust, and something flew out of it, hitting her in the face as it went by – a moth. She reeled back, heart racing, and slammed into the shelf behind her. Gasping wildly, wide eyed, she glanced around, calming herself as best as she could. She mustered up the courage to continue examining the lockers. There were long, vicious scratch marks in some areas, and a few of the other lockers were open. She managed to find a locker with a white overcoat that seemed to have not been exposed to [i]too [/i]much – just a few holes here or there. She threw this over her back, desperate for some warmth – her limbs had long gone numb from the cold.[b] “Hello?” [/b]she called gingerly, [b]“Is…is anyone there?” [/b]This felt just like so many nightmares she’d had before; dreams of dark, scary places that reeked of decay. Where monsters could come out from around any corner and get her. But this was, she was slowly beginning to see, reality. And the more she saw of it, the more she wished it was a nightmare. This room had another coffin in it – several coffins, in fact. They were much bigger than hers, but the build was the same. A few were open, and one was still hissing faintly. The room was dark, but her eyes were beginning to adjust. Another computer seemed to be on. Hopeful, she examined it. This one was completely blank. Disheartened, she continued to examine the room. There were more lockers – and again, with the exception of a ‘Chiyo’ and a ‘Gali’, both empty, the lockers were all closed tightly. A calendar on the wall read 2149.[i] 2149…? [/i]She thought to herself, panicked, as she did some quick math. [i]I’ve…I’ve been asleep for 7 years?! [/i]It was strange; it was impossible that she had been asleep that long, and yet she somehow felt as though she had been gone longer – much, [i]much [/i]longer. Water dripped from the cracked ceiling, and roots were beginning to break through the walls. Crumpled, torn, or eaten-through papers littered the desks, and wires were in disarray. None of this was anything like any of what she had seen in her entire life – certainly not amidst what seemed to be what might have once been some kind of laboratory. A stairwell, leading upwards. That seemed to be the only way to go. Shaking from a mix of cold, exhaustion, and sheer abject terror, she hurried over to the stairway.[b] “Mo-mma, papa!” [/b]she called up the stairwell, holding onto the increasingly absurd hope that someone would come and take her from this hell. Again, the only answer she received was her own echo. And at that moment, something wet, cold, and furry brushed against her leg. She looked down out of instinct, and found, to her horror, a large rodent staring back up at her. The scream formed in her mouth even before the thing bit her, and the pain wiped away any trace of calm she had developed up until that point. She kicked wildly, flinging the rat from her ankle, and dashed madly up the stairwell, throwing the door open and blindly running headlong straight into a cold, hard wall. And then everything was once again dark.[/SIZE]

Hooray, made it in! I've been looking forward to being part of this! I just submitted the rest of my sign-up, so you can check out Ilya's history now (I wanted it to be extensive and thorough to give a good idea of her life experience). By the way, Vicky, what season is it currently in the story?

[SIZE="1"]So I heard you were looking for more people...? heh, just kidding, I've been looking at this for a few days now, I've just been too busy to make a character up till now. I PMed Vicky with regard to the exact nature of what she meant by 'post-human', and I'm trying to be careful with how far 'out of the ordinary' I go. But, of course, if any part of my character is too far out there, just let me know and I'll happily change it.:catgirl: [B]EDIT:[/B] History section's done, and with it, my sign-up sheet is complete! [b]Name: [/b]Ilyasviel von Einsbergh[b] Age: [/b]11 [2142] [b] Awakening: [/b]500 AH[b] Status: [/b]She comes from a wealthy family through adoption. She shows symptoms of mild Muscle Atrophy, or cellular deterioration, that was determined to be progressive and, ultimately, terminal, unless she was placed into cryogenesis until such time as genetic research found a way to cure her. She exhibits several abnormal mental traits, and was placed into cryogenesis for the Sustainable Future program partially for the purpose of allowing further research at such a time as better methods of study became available. Savant Syndrome – Ilya is a chronosavant, meaning she has a constant and precise knowledge of what time it is, owing to increased activity in the portion of her brain that controls her ‘internal clock’. One of the lesser reasons for her containment was out of curiosity as to whether or not her Savant skill would carry on throughout her cryogenic slumber, and allow her to discern what time, day, or even year she was waking up in. Ilya also displays traits associated with First and Second category Psionics, such as the ability to see the past of an object by touching it, as well as image projection, or the ability to send and receive subliminal messages that are realized in the form of mental images. Ilya is unique in that she displays all the special mental talents associated with one having savant syndrome, but lacks the autistic traits typical of people with savant syndrome. Her only negative symptom seems to be a constantly hallucinatory state in which she sees and hears things that aren’t there, or envisions objects in a manner other than what they are in actuality. Her inability to properly make contact with the world around her is the subject of much research that was hoped to be conducted on her when she was sealed away.[b] Description:[/b] [URL="http://img45.imageshack.us/img45/5484/cosplay094oa2.jpg"][U][COLOR="Blue"]Ilya[/COLOR][/U][/URL] Ilya looks perhaps a little younger than this, and her typical outfit falls much more in the vein of this outfit: [URL="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/ms/e/e2/Illya.JPG"][U][COLOR="Blue"]Ilya's casual attire[/COLOR][/U][/URL] (apologies for the anime picture, but I figured it’d be excusable as clothes are really easy to translate from drawing into real life. Also, yes, before anyone points this out, the character in this picture IS named Ilyasviel von Einsbergh. So I’m being slightly unoriginal there, but I wanted to portray a certain [i]type [/i]of character, and this name really captures the feeling of elegance and royalty that I’m trying to portray, so I…borrowed it) This severely-bundled style is due, of course, to how incredibly cold it gets in Russia during the winter. The sound of Ilyasviel’s voice can almost be described as dainty, light, wispy, and angelic, all at once. Her primary language is English, and the Russian influence that she’s grown up in has had little effect on her accent, which is generally so light that it could almost be mistaken as slightly French.[b] Personality: [/b]Ilyasviel was raised by an aristocratic mother and father who taught her to always act in an elegant but humble manner, wishing for a daughter that had an air of sophistication about her without the stereotypical snobbish attitude that is sometimes associated with wealth. In this regard, Ilya is the perfect example of an exemplary child. Soft-spoken, cultured, and well-refined, her speech mannerisms illustrate the high-society environment in which she was raised. She can be sharp and incredibly perceptive when the situation calls upon it, and a first-class education from a personal scholar has made her exceptionally intelligent for a girl of her age. On the flip side of this coin, underneath the elegant, sophisticated nature in which she has been raised, Ilya is, first and foremost, a young girl. Kind, sympathetic, naïve, and trusting to a fault, she is a perfect illustration of book-over-street smarts, and is not very familiar with the general workings of the world around her. With little outside experience of the world around her outside of her time in a small orphanage, Ilya is quick to frighten, is frequently taken aback by unfamiliar sights and situations, and is easy to manipulate, as she takes peoples’ words for truth without question or objection, and always accepts her elders as holding absolute authority. In short, Ilyasviel is a young, impressionable mind that, while undoubtedly intelligent for her age, simply lacks the life-experiences to maintain a singular existence. It is questionable how, or even for what length of time, a person of her mental and physical status would be able to survive on their own in unfamiliar or harsh conditions. Indeed, for Ilya to survive the current situation for even a while, she will need to quickly come into contact with someone to attach herself to and follow the example of. [b] History: [/b]Though she was taken in and raised by a wealthy couple of russo-american descent, her appearance suggests that she was probably originated somewhere in the asian area. She has no record of birth or even a proper form of identification, lacking even so much as a name (the name Ilyasviel was given to her later on by her adoptive parents), and it is difficult to determine how exactly she came to be a child under the supervision of the orphanage that the Einsberghs eventually found her in. The common explanation that she ‘just sort of showed up one day’ is readily accepted and seldom questioned. David and Vera von Einsbergh were incapable of producing offspring of their own, as Vera was infertile, and the two wished for a charming, beautiful young daughter that easily stood out from others in both appearance and mental capability. To this end, they conducted a several year long search across a not-so-small number of countries to find what they deemed to be the ‘perfect little girl’. In their pride, they turned down every potential they came across, at one point even refusing to take in a stunningly cute ten year old girl with an Intelligence Quotient of 142. But then one day, they happened upon the orphanage that Ilya was being kept at. When questioned on what happened that day, Ilya gives the same lengthy narration, word-for-word, every time. A transcript of her account can be found in the following segment, although one must be reminded that, due to the unreliability of her perception of the world around her, some of the facts might not be entirely (or even remotely) accurate. Please keep this in mind as you read. ----- I’ll tell you exactly what happened that day. I can do this for you, because I remember every detail of that day as though it were happening to me now. My ability to form and maintain memories is far better than that of the average person – not to say I’m better than you, of course, so please don’t misunderstand me. Some people are just good at certain things, I suppose. Several of the kids are playing with each-other in the playroom. As per usual, I am being excluded by the others. It is cruel, perhaps, that they cast me aside, avoid me, and even sometimes push or hit me, but I am used to this sort of thing. It isn’t their fault that they act the way they do – they couldn’t possibly be expected to understand that I’m just a child, just like them, no matter how…unique…I am. I accept this, and am perfectly willing to let them enjoy themselves while I resign myself to my corner. There’s the sound of the front door opening, and everyone briefly stops what they’re doing. We can hear the sound of the director’s voice coming from the other room, speaking to some unseen patron. An expectant buzz fills the air; I can hear it like an electric surge undertoning the usual ticking that I hear every waking moment, like a clock inside my head. Or a bell. In the next moment, the figure of a tall man steps into the playroom, ducking slightly so that the doorway can accommodate his considerable height. He glances around, and his eyes are literally radiating with the intensity of one who knows exactly what they’re looking for, and is doing an initial scan of whether or not the item in question is there. He is followed quickly by a young-looking woman who seems to be beaming with a positive, hopeful energy. The searchlight-gaze of the tall man passes over me and I freeze, my heart stopping-he is an intense man, and it feels almost uncomfortable to be looked at by him. Like I’m being judged. Like the man is somehow larger than this whole room, and his presence dwarfs everything else in comparison.[b] “Whot do you zink, my love?” [/b]he turns to the woman beside him, speaking in a heavy accent. [b]“Do any of zees leetle children catch you’r eye…?” [/b]The woman in turn does a brief survey of the room, her gaze more akin to precision lasers than anything. After a brief moment of consideration, she turns to the Director, who seems suddenly small in comparison to these larger-than-life strangers. [b]“Do any of these children possess any outstanding skills?” [/b]she asks him.[b] “E…excuse me?” [/b]the Director gives his confused response.[b] “Special talents,” [/b]the woman clarifies, and I notice that she seems to lack the accent of her husband. [b]“Dancing, ballet, singing, musical instruments. Perhaps any artists or fine authors? Mathematical geniuses?” [/b]The woman presses on, but it is increasingly apparent that the Director won’t be able to make a proper ‘recommendation’. I’m just about to turn back to my corner and focus on drowning out the buzzing in my ear when I hear him reply.[b] “Well, there is [i]one[/i]…” [/b]he begins, catching the woman’s interest. [b]“One of the girls here is a bit…[i]different[/i]…than the others.” [/b]He’s pointing at me. I can tell, even though I’m not facing in his direction. He’s pointing at me.[b] “Different?” [/b]the woman echoes, for clarification.[b] “Well, the other kids don’t really get along with her very well. She’s a bit…well, [i]out there[/i], like, in the [i]brain[/i], you know. She’s not dumb or dangerous or anything, just…-” [/b]Before the Director gets to finish, the husband walks over to me and squats down in front of me. He grins a big, friendly grin at me, and extends a hand. I almost take it, but hesitate. Something tells me that I shouldn’t touch him, that it would be improper in some way.[b] “Wot ees you’r name, leetle one?” [/b]he asks heartily. I shake my head; it’s the only answer I can give. [b]“[i]Non[/i]? Vell, let us try again. Vould you like to come home with us?” [/b]I nod my head slightly.[b] “Yes, sir,” [/b]I add after a moment. The man seems unimpressed. He glances back at his spouse. [b]“Whot do you zink, love?” [/b]He asks over his shoulder to the woman behind. She walks up to me and kneels down alongside her husband. She looks me up and down, considering.[b] “She’s certainly very pretty,” [/b]she comments, her voice cautious but appraising. Somehow I can’t bring myself to be flattered by this. [b]“So, dear, what can you do that makes you ‘special’?” [/b]I get it. So [i]that’s [/i]all they’re interested in. Or at least the woman, at any rate. And I don’t really like to show off my…unique abilities, certainly not to complete strangers. I shake my head, shying further back into my corner.[b] “I can…[i]see [/i]things,” [/b]I reply. Realizing that this probably merits further explanation, I go on. [b]“I can know things that I shouldn’t know.” [/b]The look on both of their faces as they look at one another, puzzled, tells me I’m perhaps not making the most sense. But…but that’s the only way I can think of to describe it.[b] “Looks like another fruitless venture,” [/b]the woman laments after a moment, getting back up to leave.[b] “Eet would appear so, love,” [/b]the man replies, glancing towards the door. He similarly makes his move to get up and leave. It occurs to me that this may be the last chance I have to get a proper family. And if I can demonstrate my talents to them, then maybe… I run up from behind them as they walk out the door to the play room and grab the man’s hand. And I see. I see everything. [b] “David von Einsbergh,” [/b]I say.[b] “Hmm…?” [/b]the man glances back at me, confused.[b] “Your name is David von Einsbergh. You were born in Saint Petersburg Russia forty-three years, three months, seventeen days, two hours, seven minutes, and twenty-two, twenty three, twenty four seconds ago. Your current residence is Einsbergh Manor in Moscow, Russia, where you live with your wife, Vera Einsbergh, to whom you’ve been married for five years, one month, three days, two hours, and forty, forthy-one, forty two seconds.” [/b]I take a deep breath before carrying on, trying to ignore the growing expressions of shock and disbelief on their faces. This is just for starters. This alone doesn’t make the point I want to make.[b] “You and your wife discovered that you were incapable of producing offspring four years, two months, six days, thirteen minutes, and twelve, thirteen, fourteen seconds ago. Since then, you’ve been conducting a global search for a beautiful or exceptionally talented girl for you to adopt as your daughter.” [/b]I look up at the two astonished Einsberghs expectantly. [b]“Need I go on? I can do simple stuff too, like favorite colors, number guessing games, and that sort of thing, if you’d like…” “What [i]is [/i]she…?” [/b]the Mrs. Einsbergh asks after one last disbelieving moment, turning to the director.[b] “She’s just a girl,” [/b]the director shrugs. [b]“Beyond that, well…nobody really knows.” [/b]The two look at one another and nod. I get a warm feeling in my heart – the feeling that something wonderful is about to happen to me.[b] “Show us ze papers, then, Mr. Director,” [/b]the Mr. Einsbergh says with a smile. The director bows deeply to this aristocratic man and smiles down at me, gathering the papers.[b] “Congratulations. It looks like you’ve finally found a mommy and daddy,” [/b]He says. [b]“Here are the papers,” [/b]he directs his attention to the couple. [b]“You’ll notice there are several spaces missing in her profile, and I won’t be able to give you a birth certificate, either. Nobody knows anything about her; she doesn’t even have a name yet. As her new parents, you may of course fill out a name for her at this time, right here…” [/b]the director indicates the appropriate spot as he goes through the finalizing procedures. Twenty-one minutes and twelve seconds later, I walk out the front door of the small building that I had reluctantly come to call home for most of my life, hand in hand with my new mother and father.[b] “What time is it, dear?” [/b]mommy asks daddy. [b]“Our flight back home leaves at 6:10.” [/b]Daddy fumbles around in his pockets briefly, cursing.[b] “Ach, where did ah put eet…” [/b]he mumbles. But I’m still holding his hand.[b] “It is now five forty three and fifty six, fifty seven, fifty eight seconds,” [/b]I answer brightly, smiling up at him. [b]“…you left your pocket watch on the dashboard,” [/b]I add after a moment, answering the other question. Mom and dad both laugh.[b] “So, dear, what did you decide to name her?” [/b]mom asks.[b] “I give her old Russian name,” [/b]dad replies proudly. [b]“Ilyasviel. Can you say zat, leetle one?” [/b]he adds, smiling down at me. I test it out. [b]“Ilyasviel.” [/b]Ilyasviel. My name is Ilyasviel von Einsbergh. I’m eight years, three months, one week, four days, seventeen hours, forty-one minutes, and thirty-seven seconds old, and I’ve just started a new life. ----- After that day David and Vera raised Ilya as though she had been theirs all along. Everything she ever needed, she was given, and what few things she asked for, she received. To help make her into the outstanding girl they expected, David and Vera appointed a personal tutor for her to teach her, as she asked them not to make her go to a school, as the other kids wouldn’t be able to understand her. With the best education money could buy, and a cultured upbringing amidst aristocracy, Ilya was taught equally in such things as cooking, housecleaning, table manners, and proper etiquette, as well as the usual subjects of fine art, mathematics, and the sciences. She was also trained in the arts of playing piano and violin, and her remarkable memory-forming abilities helped her quickly master these instruments, performing famous classical pieces for guests when they came to the Einsbergh estate, before going on to write her own pieces, which were beautiful in their own way, but demonstrated the decidedly childish nature of her musical preference, which turned out to be melodic, but somewhat haunting. Like a lullaby, almost, but with a strangely darker undertone. She fell mysteriously unconscious while walking down the center staircase in the oversized lobby of the mansion when she was eleven, and had to be taken to emergency care. David and Vera, hoping that she had simply had an unfortunate fainting spell, were devastated to learn that she was violently anemic, and her muscle tissue was deteriorating at an alarming rate, due to some unknown illness that was causing her body to ‘overclock’ its system when exerted past a very low threshold. There was no cure for her. At least, the doctors said, not yet… ----- [b] “No…no cure…?” [/b]David echoed the man’s statement, his face going pale. Vera was speechless beside him.[b] “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t even know what’s wrong with her, let alone have a way of curing her. In her current state, I’d give her about three or four months. We can give her medical aid, but it would only be a delay. Past a certain point of deterioration, her body’s functions will give out at a rate faster than what we can compensate for. I’d give her about six months in that case.” [/b]There was silence among the three adults with grieving faces around the hospital bed on which Ilya lay, unconscious. David’s face was stoic, but his agony was clearly evident. Vera, on the other hand, was completely beside herself in sorrow, weeping into her husband’s arm.[b] “There is…one other option,” [/b]the doctor said hesitantly, eyeing the girl. [b]“I don’t know of how much help it would be to [i]you[/i], but there might be some hope for [i]her[/i].” What can we do, doctor?” [/b]David asked, his voice cracking for possibly the first time in his life.[b] “Do you know of Cryopreservation?” [/b]the doctor replied. David shook his head uncertainly, not liking the sound of where this was going. [b]“It’s a procedure in which a subject is placed in a container and then rapidly cooled to sub-zero temperatures.” [/b]Sensing the impending breakout of horror from the couple’s faces, the doctor continued. [b]“If done properly, your daughter can be preserved indefinitely, until such time as medical science produces a cure.” “How long would she be…[i]frozen[/i]?” [/b]David asked, apprehension in his voice, as though he didn’t want to know the answer. The doctor shrugged unenthusiastically.[b] “Who knows? It could take anywhere from a few years to a few decades. She might even be frozen longer than you or I live to see. It all depends on how fast a cure is found.” [/b]David visibly slumped at the notion that if he took a shot at this idea, there was a very real possibility that he wouldn’t live to see his only daughter wake up ever again. [b]“Doctor, I will do anything eef eet means saving my daughter. Just tell me this: Are you sure this ees de only way?” [/b]The doctor paused for a moment before giving his answer, looking down at the girl on the table. So much to live for, and so many things that could be learned from her. [b]“It’s her best – her [i]only [/i]chance. I’m sorry.” “I understand,” [/b]David said, his voice heavy. [b]“Where do I sign her up for the program?” “That won’t be necessary,” [/b]the doctor shook his head. [b]“The Sustainable Future program is an unofficial project funded by the government. As long as we have your approval, that should be sufficient.” “Very well, then. Do what you can for my daughter.” “We hope to put her in a brighter future than she has now,” [/b]the doctor asserted. They shook hands, and the Einsberghs kissed their only child once more, then they were gone. The doctor looked down at the sleeping Ilyasviel, and shook his head. [b]“Poor thing,” [/b]he lamented. Taking his pen in hand, he turned his focus at the clipboard in his hand. Ilyasviel’s medical record for her time in the hospital. Everything was filled out. Blood type, height, weight, condition.[u] May twenty second, 2142. Patient name: Ilyasviel von Einsbergh. Deceased. Time of death: 5:43 PM. Cause of death: Classified. Relocated to: Classified. [/u]After setting the clipboard on the bedside desk, he pulled the sheet over Ilyasviel’s face, and rolled her out of the room, down the hall, and eventually, out of the hospital, giving a suitably fabricated destination when questioned. Her future was now in the hands of science. ----- Three and a half hours later, and a half a mile underground, Ilya was safely frozen in a personal cryogenic pod, sealed away as the world slowly continued on. She was scheduled to awaken when science had progressed enough to cure her. But fate, as it turned out, dealt her a different hand. [/SIZE]

[quote name='Allamorph'][FONT=Arial]That one there was called sarcasm. [/FONT][/QUOTE] That actually wasn't sarcasm, I actually do have a legitimate desire to see where this argument stems from, as I am uninformed (my fault, really, because I've never payed attention to religion OR politics up until now) on the matter. I simply put it in perhaps an overly harsh manner, because it was frustrating me that no effort seemed to be being made to back up these accusations with any form of evidence.

It just occurred to me, looking at my previous post, that it's really difficult to respond to this sort of thing without sounding like a total jerk. I'm in no way meaning to offend anyone, sorry if I'm coming off as overtly harsh. :animeswea

[quote name='Nerdsy'][color=deeppink]Amen. USA people are truly GOD's tools. We should preached it to the montains. Obama said he is called Obama. But I say his real name is Obeelzebama. HE HATES CHRISTIANS. But he is can't take away our freedom.[/color][/QUOTE] ...And again, I'll ask it. Where the heck is all of this coming from?! I haven't even once seen even an inkling of evidence that Obama has an issue with Christianity - not that it even [I]matters[/I], because even being the president doesn't mean he could do whatever he [I]wanted[/I] to, on the (incredibly) ridiculous notion that he would try to try to take an action againt Christianity - OR ANY RELIGION FOR THAT MATTER. This is POLITICS, people. Even if he [I]did[/I] (or, for the sake of anyone who believes it so firmly, [I]does[/I]) dislike a certain religious sect, Religion as a general body is something that simply cannot be attacked in the world of politics - you'd end up falling out of favor with EVERYONE, and that just doesn't work for people who are trying to lead a country.

[quote name='Kaimaster']Go on and banned me cause I'm a christian. Everybody hates me anyway. Be like ACLU. They said they are called "American Civil Liberties Union" But I said, their real name is Against Christian's Liberties Union" THEY HATE CHRISTIANS.[/QUOTE] Not to mention this is a total overreaction, as far as I'm concerned. You don't need to get so defensive when someone notes how often your argument has been brought up. I voted Obama, for the record, but I wouldn't've spazzed out if McCain had won the election. I just don't like how 'trigger-happy' McCain comes off as, and how he spent a lot more time trying to ridicule Obama than promote his own ideas (at least in my eyes, and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). However, that's another subject entirely. How is Obama being elected being tied to the armageddon? This is an argument that I've not heard yet, actually. What does the presidency even have to do with religion? I'm not saying I'm so blind as to believe that Separation of Church and State functions even remotely close to the way it should, but it's still [I]there[/I], and does have its merits in this country, so I don't see where the problem comes in. Of course, this is all assuming that you mean 'armageddon'; in reference to the biblical event. If all your saying is 'Obama got elected, Onoes it's the end of the World', it's a lot harder to take the argument seriously. What exactly are you trying to say here? [SIZE="1"] EDIT: *looks around* I'm TOTALLY not posting outside of the Cultural District! You have no proof!!! *disappears*[/SIZE]