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fissionmailed2010-06-20 02:40 am
alphasniperwolf.livejournal.com) wrote in fissionmailed2010-06-20 02:40 am
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It's finally here...THE TL;DR ROOM~
[In the habit of changing rooms regularly, Wolf was out and about with his pack of belongings (which mostly consisted of ammo...and hair product), searching for a new room. Also with him, was his trusty map he created, with the numerous "bad" rooms he had run into, in the last year and a half or so, on his map. Walking to a room, that was nowhere near any of the marks on his map, Wolf took a deep breath, before entering. It would seem like a normal room for gathering, at first glance, but that's exactly why Wolf was immediately concerned. Gathering rooms were meant for large groups of people...which typically meant that the room intended to have some sort of effect on the mass amounts of people that would enter it.]
Do I even want to know?
[Left to his own musings of what the mysterious effect could be, Wolf suddenly turned his gaze a water cooler in the room, where a couple of clear, plastic cups resided. He suddenly realized that he was thirsty. Parched even. Lamenting on his need for water, his mind brought him back to his childhood on the battlefields of Iraq. Constantly on the run from chemical attacks, such as the fear of the thread of mustard gas, as it was a favorite tool used, during the al-Anfal Campaign, his family constantly tried to take refuge in areas away from no-mans lands, to avoid the large swarms of opposing soldiers. They'd hide for such long periods of time, that they had to forgo their own hunger and thirst for safety. Wolf supposed that was a good reason why he was able to go without food or water for so long in the present day.
Taking his first step towards the opaque, slightly blue-hued cooler filled with the cool, refreshing water, Wolf glanced upon the seemingly normal room...the white walls that were about one shade lighter than his own pale skin. In spite of all the battles that he had faced, his skin still appeared nearly flawless. As a sniper, he hardly had to worry about battle wounds. The few scars he did have were from his days as a brainwashed child soldier for the Iraqi military. But even as a soldier, he took great care in his appearance. If one could not take great care in how they presented themselves, how could one expect to take an equal amount of care in one's prey? So even if others might see his habits as metrosexual, Wolf hardly gave a damn. His striking blue eyes weren't enough to charm the women he was so fond of. No, he also had to take great care in calming his wild, blond (sometimes almost greenish in some lights) tresses, to make it as silky and flowing as the hair featured in a shampoo advertisement.
Advancing a few more steps, Wolf swallowed once to hold himself over in his thirst, even if only a few seconds had passed since the thought of water had registered in his mind. But one thought that had lingered in his mind for far longer than that was his pent up sexual frustration. It had been a long time since he had last satisfied the urges that had been present within him, since he had turned fifteen years of age. Back then, it had been within a confessional booth. The last time had been, ironically been with himself...the female version, that was. Even if it had been that long, Wolf was hardly the type to satisfy his own urges. There were things that women did for him that he could hardly accomplish on his own.
However, one gun he did take pride in cleaning was the weapon he carried with him...the Heckler & Koch PSG-1. Even if he hardly saw many battles, since Fear oddly stopped pestering him a while back, he still liked his rifle's appearance to be just as pristine as his own. So because he really didn't have much else to do, he often spent his nights cleaning out his gun, holding it with as much care as he would a lover. And at least this love of his life wouldn't throw him off a roof.
Reaching the destination of the cooler, he reached his slim, but muscled arm out to lightly grasp a ridged, plastic cup within his calloused hand. Without anything in it, it was like his own life...empty, colorless, and easily disposable within someone's grip. But that didn't matter now, he didn't care much about finding a greater purpose in life at the moment, he just wanted a drink. So he placed the cup underneath the nozzle of the cooler, and let the chilled water trickle into the cheap plastic. Just like how he tried to let the various personalities of the nexus trickle into his life, to try to cure the perpetual loneliness he felt. But just like water to a desert traveler, everyone had either disappeared or gone missing.
With his cup filled, he stood in place, as a brow furrowed slightly, looking down at his cup of water. His thumb traced over the ridges in the cut, chilled slightly by the damp dew surrounding the outside of the plastic. He sighed out through his nose, the only sound made in the presently empty room.]
How odd. This appears to be a normal.
[Odd indeed, as what he said appeared to be normal as well. It was almost a disquieting feeling he had in this room, as he was far more used to either being turned into something, saying something stupid, or having some ridiculous counter put over his head. Perhaps he would make this into his own personal room after all? It was true that he seemed to think about things far more than he usually would, but he attributed that more to his own sad, lonely state. When it came down to it, he really did need to get laid again.]
((If you actually read through all of that, I seriously applaud you for that. BUT this is the tl;dr room! Upon entering, it will almost seem normal for your character, but they will then either think a CRAP LOAD more about a subject or go into a 30 minute monologue type deal. The choice is up to you! But just remember kids...keep it tl;dr!))
Do I even want to know?
[Left to his own musings of what the mysterious effect could be, Wolf suddenly turned his gaze a water cooler in the room, where a couple of clear, plastic cups resided. He suddenly realized that he was thirsty. Parched even. Lamenting on his need for water, his mind brought him back to his childhood on the battlefields of Iraq. Constantly on the run from chemical attacks, such as the fear of the thread of mustard gas, as it was a favorite tool used, during the al-Anfal Campaign, his family constantly tried to take refuge in areas away from no-mans lands, to avoid the large swarms of opposing soldiers. They'd hide for such long periods of time, that they had to forgo their own hunger and thirst for safety. Wolf supposed that was a good reason why he was able to go without food or water for so long in the present day.
Taking his first step towards the opaque, slightly blue-hued cooler filled with the cool, refreshing water, Wolf glanced upon the seemingly normal room...the white walls that were about one shade lighter than his own pale skin. In spite of all the battles that he had faced, his skin still appeared nearly flawless. As a sniper, he hardly had to worry about battle wounds. The few scars he did have were from his days as a brainwashed child soldier for the Iraqi military. But even as a soldier, he took great care in his appearance. If one could not take great care in how they presented themselves, how could one expect to take an equal amount of care in one's prey? So even if others might see his habits as metrosexual, Wolf hardly gave a damn. His striking blue eyes weren't enough to charm the women he was so fond of. No, he also had to take great care in calming his wild, blond (sometimes almost greenish in some lights) tresses, to make it as silky and flowing as the hair featured in a shampoo advertisement.
Advancing a few more steps, Wolf swallowed once to hold himself over in his thirst, even if only a few seconds had passed since the thought of water had registered in his mind. But one thought that had lingered in his mind for far longer than that was his pent up sexual frustration. It had been a long time since he had last satisfied the urges that had been present within him, since he had turned fifteen years of age. Back then, it had been within a confessional booth. The last time had been, ironically been with himself...the female version, that was. Even if it had been that long, Wolf was hardly the type to satisfy his own urges. There were things that women did for him that he could hardly accomplish on his own.
However, one gun he did take pride in cleaning was the weapon he carried with him...the Heckler & Koch PSG-1. Even if he hardly saw many battles, since Fear oddly stopped pestering him a while back, he still liked his rifle's appearance to be just as pristine as his own. So because he really didn't have much else to do, he often spent his nights cleaning out his gun, holding it with as much care as he would a lover. And at least this love of his life wouldn't throw him off a roof.
Reaching the destination of the cooler, he reached his slim, but muscled arm out to lightly grasp a ridged, plastic cup within his calloused hand. Without anything in it, it was like his own life...empty, colorless, and easily disposable within someone's grip. But that didn't matter now, he didn't care much about finding a greater purpose in life at the moment, he just wanted a drink. So he placed the cup underneath the nozzle of the cooler, and let the chilled water trickle into the cheap plastic. Just like how he tried to let the various personalities of the nexus trickle into his life, to try to cure the perpetual loneliness he felt. But just like water to a desert traveler, everyone had either disappeared or gone missing.
With his cup filled, he stood in place, as a brow furrowed slightly, looking down at his cup of water. His thumb traced over the ridges in the cut, chilled slightly by the damp dew surrounding the outside of the plastic. He sighed out through his nose, the only sound made in the presently empty room.]
How odd. This appears to be a normal.
[Odd indeed, as what he said appeared to be normal as well. It was almost a disquieting feeling he had in this room, as he was far more used to either being turned into something, saying something stupid, or having some ridiculous counter put over his head. Perhaps he would make this into his own personal room after all? It was true that he seemed to think about things far more than he usually would, but he attributed that more to his own sad, lonely state. When it came down to it, he really did need to get laid again.]
((If you actually read through all of that, I seriously applaud you for that. BUT this is the tl;dr room! Upon entering, it will almost seem normal for your character, but they will then either think a CRAP LOAD more about a subject or go into a 30 minute monologue type deal. The choice is up to you! But just remember kids...keep it tl;dr!))