Defeater [literate roleplay]

whispers • 10 February 2014 at 3:37 PM

Close your eyes, they said.
It'll all get better, they said.

Well, the hard truth is, they lied.

In this intolerable nation, Denomination 4, rules have been set. All those who are wired differently in their head are grown up always being told they're bad and wrong, although they're not. This ideology is forced on children so when they reach the age of thirteen, they can choose to stay in the place they have grown up being tortured, or go to a "safe house" just for those of their mentality.

But this "safe house" isn't exactly what you call home. It's a work camp, where each and every child is, eventually, put to rest before their nineteenth birthday. They're locked up, every day, and put to work for countless hours.

They're all forced to this routine until a brave group decides to stand up for them all.

You are one of those who defeat the non believers and the plans they have made.

*PLEASE VISIT http://eggcave.com/forums/topic/47329/ FOR SIGNING UP*

Deleted • 12 February 2014 at 4:52 AM

His gray clothes chaffed him. Duly noted. The scar on his back stung from multiple re-openings. Duly noted. His eyes gleamed with unconscious desires. Not noted at all.

Timmy was an average kid, that no one understood. He knew neither his past nor his future and he lived each day walking in shambles. The world seemed to pass him by but the non-believers did not.

But he could remember the pain: the pain of not being accepted, of being treated differently, of strange looks and wary expressions. Yet for some reason he could remember some happiness too.

"Timothy Lancaster. Have you completed your task for the day?" He jumped, even he had learned to associate that voice with torment. He was afraid to move.

"Timothy Lancaster. Have you completed your task for the day?" the voice intoned again. The question would be repeated once more before, well...

"Timothy Lancaster. Have you completed your task for the day?" There was no edge to the voice, no indication that any reaction would be made by the man with the voice. Timmy closed his eyes. Regardless of whatever he did, or didn't do, it would always come. The sting of the whip against his back. It whistled through the air until it found its place. He duly noted the discomfort. The first hit was always the worse one, everything would fade out by the sixth. He would lose unconsciousness and then maybe he could see his sister.

Today, the whip stopped at three. Normally, Timmy would've choked out the status of his task, but today he didn't get the chance. He heard the same monotonous voice drone into his ear, whispering quietly, like some inside secret they both shared.

"Timothy Lancaster, you have friends." He felt a slight pinch on his arm. The owner of the voice never looked him in the eyes.

"Timothy Lancaster, you are wanted." Timmy felt another pinch, harder this time.

"Timothy Lancaster, you are loved." The pinch caused no more physical pain.

"Timothy Lancaster, you are accepted." His heart crippled.

"Timothy Lancaster, you are needed." The voice retreated from beside his ear as the whip found its way to his back.

"Timothy Lancaster, you are an abomination, a mistake, a defect, useless, pitiful, disgusting, and unacceptable. Do not forget. Is your task complete?"

"Yes," he moaned. His task was complete. He braced himself for another blow, but none came. He trembled as a gloved hand was placed on his shoulder and squeezed gently, affectionately. Kindness. His fear was gone and replaced by the subliminal need to experience such a touch again. He would do better. Yes, he was useless and worthless but people could be kind to him. He was an outcast, but people could still love him.

"Get your wounds treated. You are finished for the day."

Scrambling towards the infirmary, he tripped from his eagerness to see his sister again.
--
Kiya sighed tiredly as she saw her brother again. She heaved herself out of the chair in order to greet him until she saw the way he moved and the stiffness of his back. She knew he had been punished again. Punished again for something he could not help. Stifling a smile of greeting, she motioned for him to sit. Without saying a word, she selected the necessary medicines from the shelf.

Timmy obeyed her instantly and peeled off his shirt, not even wincing as his arms extended over his head. Kiya noticed that he no longer felt normal physical pain after awhile. It was all in his head now.

"Did you complete your task?" her clear voice broke the comfortable silence. She felt Timmy instantly stiffen as he replied the affirmative. Kiya instantly apologized. She was level-headed most times which was why the Taskmanagers assigned her to the infirmary instead of physical labor. Sometimes she cooked and cleaned, but mostly she fixed wounds. Occasionally, she thought it was because the Taskmanagers wanted to see how long she went without committing suicide. She dabbed alcohol onto Timmy's new wounds, wincing as he winced. "You okay?"
--
Sister. It was a word that embodied family and love, something Timmy craved desperately. He wanted to live for it, he wanted to make Kiya happy every moment of the day, yet, what could he do?

"Timmy," her soft voice enveloped him, "please stop getting hurt just so you can see me. We'll be able to see each other without you being hurt."

He pulled her into a hug and patted her hair awkwardly, "It's okay. Shh... it's okay." He felt a strange impulse to protect her from everything. "You'll be okay Kiya."

She sniffled, Timmy started, he hadn't known she was crying. "I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you," she murmured. "I'm here for you."

He didn't understand, but he felt a burst of happiness inside, a quiet blossoming of a stagnant seed someone had planted so long ago.

"Can you tell me a story Kiya?" he beamed at her, all at once old and worn yet young and hopeful.

She smiled at him and his heart was happy, "Okay."
--
"In the beginning, we all start small. Every ocean was once a sea, every sea once a river, every river once a small mountain spring, and every mountain spring once buried underground. As years go past, the path to the ocean widens and becomes just a little bit clearer, that is the nature of such things. There are some rivers that have formed early, some are perpetually flowing into the seas and even further, the oceans. Yet some rivers are still underground, unrevealed to the world. We're those rivers Timmy. As we work our way up out of the earth, from the bottom of the pit, we must overcome the natural forces constantly pulling us down. We must fight against the tide and climb upwards instead of remaining below. The surface calls our name, we will reach it.

And like water, we need time to reach the light. It does not happen instantly, it takes time and devotion, love and affection. With these, we can supersede every challenge, undermine every hardship, learn to accept every person. The river cries no tears; the river is made of tears. Just as we do not cry anymore, we live through our agony and hardships and then continue towards the ocean. There are people in our lives, just like water immerses other life, we are immersed in life. But as we change, some leave and some stay. During our journey from groundwater to ocean, there are different people in our lives. There are people who have been lost to us, but there have also been new relationships forged."

"Kiya, what happens when it rains? What happens to us?" Timmy sat, enraptured.

She shushed him gently, "I was getting to that. When it rains, we are given an opportunity. We are clouds and float along whatever path the wind decides to blow. When we are clouds we must accept wherever we land. We were clouds once. Some people become groundwater again and have to claw their way back through while others are deposited directly into the ocean. Nothing is constant, just as it continues to rain, our lives continue to change."

"What about when it snows?"

Smiling, "When it snows, we are allowed to --

"Kiya Lancaster," a monotonous tone interrupted her explanation, "You have been selected for relocation. Come with me immediately."

The smile was wiped instantly off of her face. She saw Timmy's hurt expression but ignored it. She knew what her future would look like and blamed him all the more for it.

"What happens to us... what are we allowed to do Kiya?" he pleaded softly. "What will happen to us?"

The last question lacked rhetoric.
--
He was scared. He had never seen someone relocated before. What would happen to Kiya? No one else told him stories, or even talked to him. She treated him...lovingly, without pity or remorse because he was who he was. Her acceptance of him was refreshing and he loved her. His life seemed to be a broken drawer that people emptied out and then discarded. People took away everything from him.

"She'll be back in 73 to the 53rd power days," the voice was taunting him.

"2 point 7455055 times ten to the 98th power," he sighed. Why wasn't Kiya fighting it?

Why didn't she say something?

Timmy looked into her eyes as she pointed outside.

It had started to rain.

whispers • 12 February 2014 at 9:43 PM

@fluffy *that was the most perfect opening post ever asjkl*
-

It sounded like gunshots; the echoes of the beating and battering of rain against the tin roof. A deep sigh left chapped lips and a hollow cavity. A cold moan left a dying body. Another piece of happiness escaped the dreaded bloodbath it was trapped in.

Another day to get up. Another day to pull through. Another day of sleepwalking through life. Another day where time stood still and the watch inside her head broke and pieces flew everywhere. She felt she was going nowhere.

Her room was lonelier than it was before. The other bunks were empty. Esther propped herself up and went to her counter to grab her medicines. They could kill her any minute, but it was better than working the day without them.

Three pills and a chug of water. She could just take the whole bottle. Didn't have the nerve to, though. Didn't want to disappoint another soul, although nobody cared. She shook her head and slipped on uniform. Thin and grey. Like her skin. Next popped on her cap. Time to report to work. It was either that or being deported to Denomination 8. Denomination 8 is for all though deemed to die.

She slammed her front door shut, and it's noise startled her. Then she ran. Ran hard as she could. Each step had a consequence of her shoes to be in ruin. The overseer would be fired off, but she wouldn't be killed. The thought of the overseer being angry overwhelmed her. She couldn't be yelled at once more.

She slowed and halted in the clearing of camp. Her breath was quick - it matched her heart rate. She felt pressure in her head and the darkness closing in. Tears welled in her eyes and she fell to her knees. She couldn't help the pain and worry she created. She couldn't go in late. She could call sick day. Infirmary would have to confirm, though.

"Only one way to do it." She sputtered, trying to talk after having her breakdown.

Esther jammed her fingers down her throat and up came the grits from the night before. Up came the only rations she'd been allowed. It was put to waste, and her tiny stomach ringed with hunger.

With the only inch of determination she had left, she slumped her way to the infirmary. It was pretty empty for once. She'd only spotted a few suicide attempts recovering and a young boy with crusted blood on his back. Must've been punishment wounds. The work around the camp wasn't as nearly as damaging as the boy's injuries were.

She went and sat on an empty chair. Maybe a physician would come out. Maybe somebody who would let Esther by. Maybe somebody who would force her back to work. Maybe nobody would come out. Maybe she would be deported for an unexcused absence. At this point, Esther had a mindset that her life was just a waste. But she dreamed of the day that she wouldn't feel the burden of the world on her shoulders.

Without the fears.

Without the infinite sadness.

Without the classification of defect.

She dreamed of this day.

Esther looked at the boy, she wanted to talk. She was scared. What if she said the wrong thing? What if she upset him? What if he turned her in for false illness? What if this was all a dream?

"What's y-your n-name?"

Somehow, Esther built up the nerve to say it.

carter • 13 February 2014 at 4:09 PM

Everything seemed normal, for them it was at least. It had started to rain, but the water isn't what scared him. It was the agonizing sound of its constant pounding against everything. Buildings, earth, metal, his own head. He didn't realize it at first, his body crouched close to the ground with knees brought to his chest, hands gripping at his red locks as the sky's water soaked him to the bone.
At first its never all that bad, just a few drops hitting motionless things. But when it started to poor he couldn't take it. Sounds bothered him, there was never enough silence something always had to be loud and annoying and try to bring attention to its self. Why couldn't everything just shut up for at least a moment?
Oh but sounds never stopped. They were always there, a constant thing. Maybe if he used something sharp and gouged out his ears all the noises would stop. Maybe the voices would too, if he couldn't hear then they simply wouldn't work, right? They were in his head but if he couldn't hear other things how would he hear them? That sounded like a good plan after all, much better than the last one.
Without realizing his new plan had apparently already gone into effect as his nails dug into the skin of his ears making blood drip from them slowly. His nails weren't enough though, he still heard as only the outside of his ears were clawed at. He'd also fallen over, still curled up though only sideways now but that didn't stop him. He had gotten worse at noticing things, getting lost in thought to often and spacing out. The ground was cold, and wet. He didn't like it. "Make it stop..." His voice started as a whimper, a soft sound that was killed by the rain. "Make. It. Stop!" Eventually his cries got louder until he was screaming the three words over and over.
Suddenly there was pain, only this was the other kind of pain the kind that you feel with your person and not with your head. He couldn't quite tell where it had come from but his screaming was probably its cause. His name was said, the familiar letters that formed Owen were almost an insult now. Someone picked him up, roughly and heartlessly as he kicked and flailed screams only getting louder making his voice crack. His voice wasn't the only one though, a familiar one pleaded for him not to be hurt. That was silly, people get hurt all the time.

The next thing he knew he was sitting, still dripping wet in the infirmary. Did he black out? What happened? His head hurt, but it always did that. There was a warm wetness dripping from his ears, different from the rain. He could still hear. He should fix that, he didn't want to hear anymore. Hearing was painful and terrifying. He would need something sharp. God his head hurt, he needed to stop thinking. But he couldn't do that because when he stopped thinking is when the voices started speaking. Not now, he couldn't take it right now. When the voices started is when everything got worse. As to keep them away he busied his mind with anything he could. Counting the people around him, wondering why each was there, things he really didn't care about. Anything to keep the voices out. He didn't move either, as if that could trigger them as well, sitting motionless as if already dead only upright and barely breathing.
The only problem was, the voices came when they wanted to and did what they wanted to. There was nothing Owen could do to stop them. He was powerless as always.

eggcaveteam • 13 February 2014 at 9:06 PM

As I just had to delete a post in this roleplay that seriously crossed the line of what not to post, I would like to take this time to remind all of you about the rules.

-No suggestive or sexually explicit content.
-No graphic, violent, or torturous content.

Please keep this in mind when making posts in this roleplay. Remember this is a G rated site.

Deleted • 13 February 2014 at 9:09 PM

I don't even know anymore. Sorry about this ridiculously short thing. My heart broke when the mods deleted my post.
--
Tim could only think about his sister. He couldn't understand why she hadn't protested, why she hadn't at least said something, done something, shown some emotion. She had just accepted it. Was that something that normal people did? There was a girl behind him. She was asking him a question. At the moment, Tim didn't want other people, he wanted his sister. She had been gone less than two minutes and already there was a gaping chasm in his life, maybe not life: his existence.

She had been the only thing keeping him alive, what else would he have to live for now?

"Snow," he said aloud, "What are you?"

His voice was trembled slightly but his tone was accusatory.
--
@whispers - I know you won't get this ping *cries silently* but just assume that Mr. Crazy over here is talking to you.

Hmm for people that get the jist of what happened. It happened and assume that it did for the sake of the roleplay. I believe that's allowed because nobody besides Bunnyshadow saw the post?

pegasasu • 14 February 2014 at 8:34 AM

Isn't it strange?

You'd think that, permitted few hours to sleep a night, she'd cherish the sleep she would get.

Karina is not a heavy sleeper.

Dreams are one of her many fears. Her thoughts thrive in the darkness; it's only obvious that they'd flourish where they'd manifested.

That being said, she suffered from another case of insomnia, only having just woken from am ominous nightmare. Kellen's nightmares weren't your typical dreams of a monster chasing you or the like.

She suffered that enough during the day.

At night, it was mental suffering that traumatized her. The faces in her dream were blank, stony and expressionless. Rows upon rows of faces that bore into the very essence of her being, silently screaming to her for something, something... Isn't it strange?

Her mind is working against her.

Her body is juxtaposed in a fetal position when she hears the thunder. The roar of the thunder resounds in Karina's ears, the deafening clap distorting itself into layers upon layers of sounds, meaningless sounds twisting themselves into screams, screaming for help, help, help-- until Karina realizes that it is she screaming, not the voices inside her head. Isn't it strange?

Her body is collaborating.

"Number 7742! You're late, you lazy swine!" Is he in the wrong room? The white, pale flesh on her skin tells Karina that she is indeed not a pig. Her lips tremble, as if there's a chance that she really might form coherent words. Is this the moment where she makes her mental breakthrough?

Of course not. The blank look in her eyes must translate into words of rebellion, because the heavily clad guard threw her a look of disgust. Isn't it strange?

It's as if she isn't worth the breath it takes to throw another insult. There's a certain honor to be an enemy, in all honesty, because that means you're worth despising, doesn't it? But Karina is only granted the privilege of scorn as his unfeeling eyes scream repugnance. 'Why do you exist?' The message was reiterated in his eyes, eyes brainwashed to believe that she isn't really human, is she? The words reverberate across cold, dank walls, because the entire disgusting universe is conspiring with his robotic eyes that she is not worth their time. Isn't it strange?

A lack of existence is the worst insult.

whispers • 14 February 2014 at 10:26 AM

@pupdog

Esther's hope of making a friend shattered. "Snow? What do you mean by 'snow what are you'?" She shook her head in confusion. "Snow is simply a form of frozen precipitation of water. It's not too hard to understand."

She stopped speaking before she screwed up. The idea of messing up and scaring another person away haunted her and took control of her. She felt her heart rising and the pressure in her head raining down. She wanted to cry.

The bent down and placed her head between her knees and held it there and wouldn't let go. It was the only place she felt safe in. These strangers were watching her lose it. She wanted to stop. But she couldn't.

And then came another tidal wave. She began to laugh hysterically. She whispered to herself before sitting back up, "Nope. This is all a dream. Nobody cares."

She felt the stares burning into her flesh. But she continued to talk.

"So what do you find so confusing about snow?"

Deleted • 14 February 2014 at 11:15 AM

@whispers

--
The man had left Kiya alone on the wooden floor, she gathered the remnants of her clothes, put them on and left without looking back. This was only part of her sacrifice. She wanted to save her brother, but she didn't want to lose herself along with him. Her humanity was being stripped, she wasn't crazy but soon, she felt, her sanity would be gone. Kiya had to get out. A cloying sense of desperation filled her lungs, her heart started to beat faster, and she could feel the tears coming.

But she still didn't cry. There was nothing they could do to her anymore that would make her cry. She was too weak to cry, to weak to let her emotions show through. She would never admit to herself, nor to others that she needed help. Feeling disgusted with herself, she shod all of those emotions. Emotions were going to be useless to her.
--
Timmy pointed to the rain as it pattered down outside, "We are rain and the rain drops and the world and we are rain and I want to be in the ocean and don't know and it can't help and..." he trailed off. His thoughts were jumbled together and his words were garbled. He couldn't risk someone interrupting the lingering thoughts of his sister.
--
The man was standing outside the door, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light. He offered an arm to her and Kiya took it obediently. She was not conscious of her clothes, but the man certainly was. He continuously sent searching glances down her body, looking at her clothes, staring at her face.

What was he looking for?

She did not speak, she did not change her expression, she did not let even an iota of emotion: fear, happiness, puzzlement, surprise.

He lead her to a larger cabin, one where the lights shone brightly and she could feel the warmth radiating out of. He smiled kindly at her, all previous aggression gone. She blinked in surprise and his grin widened even more.

"There's a gala today, we were supposed to bring a date," he whispered into her ear, "I guess we'll have to get you cleaned back up."

Kiya tensed. What was going to happen? She hadn't been to a party since she was ten. They walked together towards the back entrance of the cabin. The man opened a door and smells of food wafted out. The room was relatively small, there was another door leading towards the interior of the cabin. The room looked like a small bedroom, a dress was hanging in the open closet while shoes and accessories were laid out on the bed. The dress was beautiful. It was light green, like the previous one, but this time it was made of silk. It had the tiniest waist and the skirt billowed out. The embodiment of elegance.

There were matching shoes, with a little jewel fastened to it. A simple emerald necklace on a small golden chain lie juxtapose. She hastily undressed, no longer uncomfortable being naked in front of others. Kiya pulled the dress on, the waist was snug and accentuated her body beautifully. She quickly donned the shoes and the necklace. She ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to untangle it.

The man gasped when she turned around and faced him, however he said nothing. He silently handed her lipstick, eye charcoal and rouge. Memories from her past life engulfed her. Kiya could remember playing with her mother's make-up set. Her mother had told her she was too young and taken her new playtoys away. Timmy had been her hero then. So gallantly, he had secretly swiped some of mother's numerous amounts of lip stick and had placed it under her pillow. She woke up in the morning with lipstick all over her hands and face but her mother wasn't mad. She had just laughed and said that Timmy was too kind for his own good.

Timmy was always trying to look out for her. It was like he had no other purpose in life. When they took him away, she couldn't restrain herself from trying to help him. A year had passed before another inspector came to their house, searching for mental illness. Without thinking, she feigned depression. Just to be near Timmy. A chance to be the hero he had been. Kiya felt like she owed him something. It was as if every moment he had been living for her and now it was her turn to repay the favor.

And what a favor this was. Her life had been turned upside down.

She applied the makeup carefully, making sure the charcoal brought out the right places in her eyes and that the rouge was evenly placed. The lipstick was easy, she had gotten enough practice with it as a child.

When she was finished, the man held up a mirror. Gazing at her reflection, she could notice her own beauty and the beauty she had lost. She was no longer overweight and her cheeks obviously had no natural color. Despite the teasing when she was younger about her body size, Kiya wished she could revert back to the time when she had had more than enough to eat. All the times when she was hungry, she had had no idea that there were people hungrier than her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a hair clip adorned with jewels. She sighed tiredly, when could this be over? Pulling her hair into the only style she had remembered from her mother, she fastened it with the clip. Now she was complete.

whispers • 19 February 2014 at 8:35 PM

**** GUYS THE RP WAS MOVED TO HERE; defeater.freeforums.org

@pegasasu
@poe
@jupiter_hollow
@pupdog
@carter