Entry tags:
GRAVEYARD

students in time out: 10
It's a little hard to wake up when the melody that drifts into your ears is so comforting that it'd be so much simpler to stay asleep. Maybe everything that you remember last - the cold seeping into your fingertips, the pain of injury, or the darkness creeping into your vision - will just be parts of a bad dream.
But it's not.
When you wake up, it's probably a little disorienting - you have to push off a blanket and rise from this nice comfortable mat on the floor. Seems like you were all curled up for nap time. Literally. The room that you're in has furniture meant for small humans, children as some might call them, and everything is soft and plush to the touch with rounded corners. Blocks with the alphabet etched onto them, coloring books and crayons, and even a rocking horse dot the room to really give it that childish charm. If you can think of a child-safe toy, it's probably in one of the baskets that line the shelves of the room!
Around the room they'll find baby monitors that broadcast the antics of the living. Hopefully that doesn't feel creepy.
There is a yard outside through the glass doors, but it currently seems to be locked - and the glass won't break no matter how hard you try. There's a large pink door that feels enormous, ten times as tall as you, on one side of the room, but there's no way through that either. At the very top, you might see a directory sign that says: TO ADMINISTRATION BUILDING.
Huh.
Well... for now, get comfortable. It looks like you might be here a while.
WEEK 4 UPDATES
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Is this how kids get together these days?
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These days.
[Why does Sieghart act like he's 5000 years olds. 600 is young. Get out there.]
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[He looks down at the tug and shrugs. A whiff of emotion suggests some degree of endearment on his end. Six hundred though he may be, he probably feels like a six-thousand-year-old fart inside.]
Who would you bid for out of this bunch?
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Expensive.
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Well, Viola's that kind of girl. You can tell her social status just from the way she carries herself. That much gold—and three cats—are probably nothing to her.
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Rich kids.
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At least she's a fussy worker. That means she spends what she's earned.
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Capitalism.
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[Then he grins at this.]
Now he knows what he's doing!
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Fall. Nerd.
[JUST THAT GUYS A NERD, MAYA.]
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What's so bad about that?
[He chuckles.]
Look how red he is.
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[uwu what's this tho]
Competition.
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But he also makes a face.]
Hey, now . . . There's a limit to how clueless you should be.