12-06-2015, 10:32 PM
Aadibah was plainly aware of the commotion just in front of her. A man that seemed to be talking to himself and doing something that elicited strange things that by any right of the physical world should never occur.
Perhaps he's Shaytan's emissary. Come to guide me to the brimstone and eternal fire. Aadibah gave a weak, weazy chuckle at her own thought.
She'd been set on fire. She'd been blown up. She'd been shot, stabbed, punched, kicked, just about every bone in her body had been broken at one point. At least the ones that didn't put you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.
Her eyes kept on the ground, peering into the infinite whiteness. Whatever hell this was, it was very clean. She had heard stories of white room torture, though. Prisoners of war being kept in a small room with a bed, white walls, white sheets, white clothing. All of their food white. Separated from any human contact for months, even over a year. She wouldn't be at all surprised if that was her next eternity, losing all sense of self in neutrality. Although that didn't explain the babbling fountain to her back, or the strange man off to the side a ways.
It was a knee jerk reaction mixed with her current mental state that resulted in Aadibah's head slowly, lazily, slouching over to face the source of the voice. She was rather confused with herself as to why she was even acknowledging something that could very well be the source of her pain.
The man was rather striking in appearance. She'd met people from Japan before, and this guy embodied the stereotype. Dark hair, dark eyes, the face, the body. His attire was... slightly less messier than her own. He was unassuming, to say the least.
Perhaps he's Shaytan's emissary. Come to guide me to the brimstone and eternal fire. Aadibah gave a weak, weazy chuckle at her own thought.
She'd been set on fire. She'd been blown up. She'd been shot, stabbed, punched, kicked, just about every bone in her body had been broken at one point. At least the ones that didn't put you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.
Her eyes kept on the ground, peering into the infinite whiteness. Whatever hell this was, it was very clean. She had heard stories of white room torture, though. Prisoners of war being kept in a small room with a bed, white walls, white sheets, white clothing. All of their food white. Separated from any human contact for months, even over a year. She wouldn't be at all surprised if that was her next eternity, losing all sense of self in neutrality. Although that didn't explain the babbling fountain to her back, or the strange man off to the side a ways.
Quote:“Hey, you okay there?”
It was a knee jerk reaction mixed with her current mental state that resulted in Aadibah's head slowly, lazily, slouching over to face the source of the voice. She was rather confused with herself as to why she was even acknowledging something that could very well be the source of her pain.
The man was rather striking in appearance. She'd met people from Japan before, and this guy embodied the stereotype. Dark hair, dark eyes, the face, the body. His attire was... slightly less messier than her own. He was unassuming, to say the least.
Such terror you are facing
Isn't it wonderful?
Isn't it wonderful?