Re: Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round One: The Pacific Spire]
05-17-2012, 05:38 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Sanzh.
Elise failed to notice the the pandemonium now engulfing the cubicle farm. She had seen the fragile pile of clothes reassemble, the reanimated scientist shamble forward-- but they were not on her mind. Not even the Sociologist's experiment was a pressing concern. The disease coursing through her veins, sapping her strength each passing second-- that was what consumed her thoughts. She needed to escape the office sprawl; she needed to recollect and prepare. Her sturdy boots began to march, dragging the alchemist with them. Slipping into an unoccupied hallway, Elise scanned rows of doors. Settling on the closest, she slipped into an office.
Stacked boxes, a cleaned-out desk-- the office had been recently vacated, and judging from the Sociologist's introductory monologue, Elise had a strong impression as to why. The threat of warfare, even with this new reminder, was still distant and insignificant compared to the closer danger. She set her backpack down on the desk, tugging open several of its pockets. Shaky hands rifled through the rucksack, withdrawing a few ingredients before settling on a set of stoppered vials. She grabbed one, bringing it into the light and examining the fluid inside.
Her shoulders slumped forward in reassurance. Her supply of medicine had not been tampered with. A small fraction of her worry dissipated-- enough to remove her disease as a pressing factor and allow the thought of the Sociologist's battle to assert itself.
Her gloved hand curled into a fist, slamming against the desk. The Sociologist's taunt still stung. It had been her that had interrupted Elise's search, interrupted countless days spent searching and experimenting and trying to make something out of the epidemic. The casual dismissal was infuriating-- how she sidestepped that if it weren't for this interruption she could be discovering the hint that would further her progress. Instead, she was trapped in this spire, isolated from anything that could help her investigation. Her body shook with livid rage at the sheer injustice of what had transpired.
She double-checked her backpack, noting the crossbow and its accompanying quiver of bolts. Even if combat had not been mentioned, it seemed readily apparent that it was a means to the Sociologist's end. Elise had no intention of playing along with this experiment.
A twinge of uncertainty sprung into being-- the other competitors might not act similarly.
If combat was the intention of this gathering, she failed to see how the others stood a chance. There had been no indication any of them possessed any combat experience, an unmentioned advantage she possessed. They had other strengths to ply-- expecting nothing but violence was foolish, and it was equally absurd to expect that a clear winner would be brazenly evident at the onset. Constant vigilance would be necessary.
She was conspicuous, there was nothing to gain here-- her mind enumerated why she should leave this floor, and Elise saw no counter-argument. She carefully stowed her belongings-- making sure to keep the crossbow readily accessible-- and sealed her backpack as she hoisted it onto herself. Carefully opening the door, she snuck into the hallway once again.
Bedlam gripped the office she had been teleported into; returning there seemed inadvisable. Instead, the alchemist headed in the opposite direction. Further away, a pair of automatic doors opened-- Elise had only the barest familiarity with elevators, but she recognized enough to know what one was. Running forward, she dashed inside the cab, the doors sliding to a close just as she entered.
"Going up?"
Elise failed to notice the the pandemonium now engulfing the cubicle farm. She had seen the fragile pile of clothes reassemble, the reanimated scientist shamble forward-- but they were not on her mind. Not even the Sociologist's experiment was a pressing concern. The disease coursing through her veins, sapping her strength each passing second-- that was what consumed her thoughts. She needed to escape the office sprawl; she needed to recollect and prepare. Her sturdy boots began to march, dragging the alchemist with them. Slipping into an unoccupied hallway, Elise scanned rows of doors. Settling on the closest, she slipped into an office.
Stacked boxes, a cleaned-out desk-- the office had been recently vacated, and judging from the Sociologist's introductory monologue, Elise had a strong impression as to why. The threat of warfare, even with this new reminder, was still distant and insignificant compared to the closer danger. She set her backpack down on the desk, tugging open several of its pockets. Shaky hands rifled through the rucksack, withdrawing a few ingredients before settling on a set of stoppered vials. She grabbed one, bringing it into the light and examining the fluid inside.
Her shoulders slumped forward in reassurance. Her supply of medicine had not been tampered with. A small fraction of her worry dissipated-- enough to remove her disease as a pressing factor and allow the thought of the Sociologist's battle to assert itself.
Her gloved hand curled into a fist, slamming against the desk. The Sociologist's taunt still stung. It had been her that had interrupted Elise's search, interrupted countless days spent searching and experimenting and trying to make something out of the epidemic. The casual dismissal was infuriating-- how she sidestepped that if it weren't for this interruption she could be discovering the hint that would further her progress. Instead, she was trapped in this spire, isolated from anything that could help her investigation. Her body shook with livid rage at the sheer injustice of what had transpired.
She double-checked her backpack, noting the crossbow and its accompanying quiver of bolts. Even if combat had not been mentioned, it seemed readily apparent that it was a means to the Sociologist's end. Elise had no intention of playing along with this experiment.
A twinge of uncertainty sprung into being-- the other competitors might not act similarly.
If combat was the intention of this gathering, she failed to see how the others stood a chance. There had been no indication any of them possessed any combat experience, an unmentioned advantage she possessed. They had other strengths to ply-- expecting nothing but violence was foolish, and it was equally absurd to expect that a clear winner would be brazenly evident at the onset. Constant vigilance would be necessary.
She was conspicuous, there was nothing to gain here-- her mind enumerated why she should leave this floor, and Elise saw no counter-argument. She carefully stowed her belongings-- making sure to keep the crossbow readily accessible-- and sealed her backpack as she hoisted it onto herself. Carefully opening the door, she snuck into the hallway once again.
Bedlam gripped the office she had been teleported into; returning there seemed inadvisable. Instead, the alchemist headed in the opposite direction. Further away, a pair of automatic doors opened-- Elise had only the barest familiarity with elevators, but she recognized enough to know what one was. Running forward, she dashed inside the cab, the doors sliding to a close just as she entered.
"Going up?"