Post by Turkey on Mar 27, 2014 19:08:18 GMT -6
The feelings were coming back to him slowly, almost as if he was discovering each of his senses for the first time, one by one. Touch was the first to return, the feel of the material against his skin was course, but not enough to be truly uncomfortable. Sadiq could tell he was lying in an odd position, but he made no move to get up. His brain wasn’t functioning fully yet and his body felt like it was weighed down by lead. From there his world expanded outward. Small sounds echoed in his ears, the sounds of the house creaking as it settled like most old houses tended to do. No unordinary sounds assaulted his ears and he let himself relax just a hair, he still didn’t know what was going on around him or how he ended up where here, wherever here was. A part of Sadiq hoped the sounds would at least tell him if someone was with him or not, but there was nothing. He couldn’t even feel if something was hovering over him or not. Finally opening his eyes, he saw a ceiling. Knowing it was safe to move, the sat up. Well, tried to sit up that is. His muscles felt like sand, unable to actually move and prop him up, but he managed slowly.
Finally once he was up, he looked around to figure out where he was. There was a couch under him and the coarseness was the sheet that was covering it. Oddly enough, it was still white as a newly fallen snow, pristine. It had not yellowed with age; it was still whole and not ragged. While he was surprised, he knew he couldn’t let himself be distracted in this place. There were many things here that surprised him, but there had also been too many things that ad used these surprises as distractions to get those that he was with, leaving him to watch as friends barely survived, or not at all. Dragging his eyes away from the couch to the rest of the room, there really wasn’t much there. A few chairs, a painting or two and a table. It was obvious this room wasn’t meant for lingering in. A meeting point before heading to another room of the house. A greeting room to conduct introduction before heading into parlors or offices or even the kitchen. This house had been in its prime during the time of American slavery, could it be possible that that had something to do with the state the manor was currently in? Was the slavery the turning point that let more evil flow into this house, allowing it to take a gangrenous hold, allowing the blithe to spread until everything was consumed, until, finally, what was left was what the place was today? Was it possible to heal this place, to cut off the infection and restore the place to what it was? Or was there no hope anymore, it being too far decayed and tainted?
Sighing, Sadiq stood up to walk around the room. After all, a moving target was easier to hit than a stationary one, and this room made a target of him, almost as if he had a target painted on his back. He could only hope nothing came after him, though he had plans to leave this room and continue on, not wanting to wait to find out how he ended up hear in the first place.
Finally once he was up, he looked around to figure out where he was. There was a couch under him and the coarseness was the sheet that was covering it. Oddly enough, it was still white as a newly fallen snow, pristine. It had not yellowed with age; it was still whole and not ragged. While he was surprised, he knew he couldn’t let himself be distracted in this place. There were many things here that surprised him, but there had also been too many things that ad used these surprises as distractions to get those that he was with, leaving him to watch as friends barely survived, or not at all. Dragging his eyes away from the couch to the rest of the room, there really wasn’t much there. A few chairs, a painting or two and a table. It was obvious this room wasn’t meant for lingering in. A meeting point before heading to another room of the house. A greeting room to conduct introduction before heading into parlors or offices or even the kitchen. This house had been in its prime during the time of American slavery, could it be possible that that had something to do with the state the manor was currently in? Was the slavery the turning point that let more evil flow into this house, allowing it to take a gangrenous hold, allowing the blithe to spread until everything was consumed, until, finally, what was left was what the place was today? Was it possible to heal this place, to cut off the infection and restore the place to what it was? Or was there no hope anymore, it being too far decayed and tainted?
Sighing, Sadiq stood up to walk around the room. After all, a moving target was easier to hit than a stationary one, and this room made a target of him, almost as if he had a target painted on his back. He could only hope nothing came after him, though he had plans to leave this room and continue on, not wanting to wait to find out how he ended up hear in the first place.