Just Beyond The Walls

The year is 4121.

We have reached a point where no one living on Earth remembers what the sky looks like. For hundreds of years, it has been blocked and grey from the pollution and smog choking the atmosphere.

The water has become polluted to the point where no matter how much it gets treated, it is never truly useable. The city purifies it as much as they can, makes it clean for show, but every drink or shower taken poisons what few humans remain more and more. Most of the worlds’ species, both plant and animal, have died, either falling to the illness brought by the poisons that consumed the world or hunted to extinction. The vast majority of the world is wasteland, polluted toxic dump sites destroyed beyond repair.

But dotting this desolate planet are cities, tiny pockets of civilization still barely clinging to life, the last of the human race taking shelter within them and relying day to day on their own limited genius, the science and greed and infinite need to consume that got them here to cling to life. They live in glitz and glamour, eating lab grown food and consuming masses of scientifically engineered or recycled consumer goods. Some resources are still scraped from the planet where possible, or goods are created with advanced scientific processes. They ignore the peril. They believe the scientists will fix everything. They believe they do not need the nature they foolishly destroyed to live.

They are wrong.

The cities are filthy, coated in a perpetual layer of black grunge. No plants grow anymore. The government is corrupt, the seemingly infinitely rich one per cent dominating almost everything, with no chance of wealth trickling to the lower-downs. People get sick and die almost constantly, and medical care is so expensive that only the ludicrously wealthy can afford it. Even then, it isn’t always enough. Birth defects, infertility, miscarriage, and mutations are more common than ever as tiny developing foetuses are bombarded with radioactivity and toxins from the moment of conception.

The human race is dying out.

The scientists are scrambling for a solution.

And yet they try to stomp out the solution right in front of them. Because within the disease and disaster are those who have adapted and evolved. Born with unnatural abilities that allow them to better defend themselves or adapt to their surroundings and some genetic immunity to the now-toxic planet, they are the new generation. But they are labelled freaks, deemed dangerous, shut away from the general population in a massive grim institutional building from the time they are discovered. They are subjected to experimentation, surgery, and oppressive techniques designed to “save”, to make these poor children normal again and assimilate them back into society. They are trying to destroy the very adaptations that may allow the human race to survive, and may, in some cases, even replenish the planet.

You have been labelled a freak. You have been imprisoned in this terrible place possibly for your entire life, subjected to torment you never thought possible. Do you accept your fate? Do you want to be normal, to just go back to society? Or do you want to escape at all costs, to fight back, to rise up and overthrow the corruption? The world is in your hands now. The choice is up to you.

Brought to you by Bonez and Ravyn~ x3

Character Sheet:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Hair:
Eyes:
Skin:
Height/Build:
Tattoos/Piercings/Scars/Other Physical Oddities:
Ability:
Any backstory?:
Other:

***** Appearance type categories can be substituted with a picture. Please try not to pick the same ability as another character and obviously no over-powered characters. Over-powered characters are obnoxious and will be swiftly destroyed by an even more obnoxious and overpowered character of my own design. Don’t make me get creative. ._______.

Mah peepssssssss:

Name: Seamus Fletcher
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Hair: A general mop, rough looking, shaggy, light brown.
Eyes: Hazel, but more green than brown, often have some humour in them.
Skin: Average caucasian. Would probably be tanned except is indoors, like.... all the time, and not much sunlight actually gets down to the Earth's surface anymore, so...
Height/Build: Maybe an inch or two above average height, broad shoulders, athletic build but not terribly muscle-y or anything as there's not a tonne of opportunity for exercise within the confines of the institution.
Tattoos/Piercings/Scars/Other Physical Oddities: Has some scars from general abuse over the years, has been in the institution from the time he was born so never had the opportunity for any piercings or tattoos.
Ability: He can communicate/control plants and sort of force them to grow in odd places, even without a seed to start with.
Any backstory?: His parents noticed pretty quickly when plants started springing up around their sleeping baby. He was taken away shortly afterwards and has been in the institution his whole life, more or less.
Other: Meh, not much.


Name: Peyton Sonier
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Hair: Pale white-blonde
Eyes: Dark blue-grey
Skin: Fair
Height/Build: Average
Tattoos/Piercings/Scars/Other Physical Oddities: Large anarchist "A" tattoo on her back between her shoulderblades.
Ability: She can run insanely fast.
Any backstory?: Born into a very wealthy high-class family, her powers didnt develop until she was 12 or so, at which point she was forced to flee her home after her parents tried to have her taken away. She lived with a small group of others like her who would also be taken away if found and a few normal human sympathizers for a few years, but when she was 14 they were caught. Her and the other 'freaks' were taken away and she sympathizers were executed.
Other: Nope

*reserves spot for a girl and guy with tangibility change (making herself more dense/intangible) and camouflage abilities*

I'll have them up by tomorrow if Starkid doesn't distract me too much

*RESERVATION FDJSALFJADSKLFDSAJF*

Character Bios

Name: She was born with the name Felice, but was re-named Sarah when she was brought to this prison.
Age: Sixteen or seventeen, she’s forgotten her official birthday.
Gender: Female.
Hair: Blunt, pin-straight and somewhat thin bangs falling over her forehead and kissing the arches of her eyebrows, which are a little on the thicker side. The rest of her hair hangs in a straight, thin, even sheet down her back. It’s a very, very ashy brown, and it has subtle dark-green undertones.
Eyes: Wider than average, with down-turned corners. They’re completely black and shinny from edge to edge.
Skin: Extremely pale and fair, making all veins and bruises/scars obvious. She has no freckles and a surprisingly clear complexion.
Height/Build: A completely average height, 5”4, and she doesn’t have many feminine curves to her, or bust. Skinnier than average, with some unhealthily obvious bone definition.
Tattoos/Piercings/Scars/Other Physical Oddities: She has many bruises on her arms, legs, back, etc, and a few scars as well from years of abuse. A thin but noticeable white scar breaks through the arch of her left eyebrow.
Ability: She can seriously impair an opponents vision. If she were able to practice this, she’d be able to cause them to be completely blind, but since she’s been taken it’s been reduced to just causing blurriness and shakiness. Even trying that gives her severe migraines.
Any backstory?: Felice only stayed with her parents until she was ten years old. They were tired of feeding another mouth that they wish they’d never given birth to, and sent her out to the streets. Seven years of struggle, abuse, hiding and starvation followed before she was reported to the joke of a government and taken off the streets to the centre in her sleep.
Other: Felice is one of the fiercest girls you’ll ever meet. After fighting for so long, there is no way in hell she’ll lie down and roll over for the scientists.


Name: His parents named him John, but he refuses to respond to it, and forced them to re-name him Victor.
Age: Fifteen.
Gender: Male.
Hair: Buzzcut (not his choice, but was needed for an experiment), with bushy, straight brows. The little hair he has is an absolute and pure, thick white.
Eyes: Somewhat narrowed in shape, giving him a perpetual thoughtful look. The pupil is much large than the whites of his eyes, with a thin ring of taupe encircling them.
Skin: Only slightly darker than his hair, a few blemishes on his forehead.
Height/Build: Victor is just taller than the average teenage male, 5”7. He always seems to be hunched over a little, as a result from a few bad beatings, and has a scrawnier build. He’s not as thin as some of the more tortured “freaks” are in the prison, but he definitely doesn’t look totally healthy.
Tattoos/Piercings/Scars/Other Physical Oddities: There are many scars of a variety of shape and size all over his scalp and down his back.
Ability: Victor can, if fully concentrated and well-practiced, manipulate the mind. He can worm his own mind in someone else’s and alter their thoughts towards something, or change how the remember an event occurring. Due to so much experimentation as he has one of the more threatening abilities (if he were to practice, he could definitely turn the prison upside down), it’s diminished to just slightly change someone’s emotions towards a certain idea or memory.
Any backstory?: Victor had the luck to be born to one of the wealthier families, and had parents that were good to him up until he hit puberty. That’s the time when his hair changed color and the abilities surfaced. Shortly after he’d developed, he was sent off to the prison in the hopes of being “fixed”.
Other: Victor used to be a decently normal kid, but after his development, he’s become, well... disturbed.

Character Sheet:
Name: Nicolette (Letti for short) Myers
Age: Eighteen, turning nineteen in a few months
Gender: Female
Hair: Long, light brown at her roots fading to a medium blood at the tips. Her hair is wavy and pulled into two braids that go over both of her shoulders.
Eyes: She has one light green eye and one light blue eye, framed with long lashes.
Skin: Natural lightly tanned skin with a golden undertone.
Height/Build: Roughly 5 feet 6 inches tall and slenderly built. She seems rather frail, like if you poke her she would shatter.
Tattoos/Piercings/Scars/Other Physical Oddities: has “Actions Speak Louder” tattooed along her left shoulder blade, with slight wings coming out of them. She has a few scars and bruises and no piercings.
Ability: She can change her tangibility, making it so people or objects with pass through her without harming her, or the complete opposite with anything that is as fast as a bullet bounce harmlessly against her skin. She isnt skilled with this, and will make herself intangible, sometimes getting herself stuck into floors or other odd places. Once she masters this (if she ever does) she will also be able to make whoever is touching her the same tangibility as her, though it would take a lot of energy.
Any backstory?: I dont really know yet, but please give suggestions. ^-^’
Other: Klaus’ younger sister.


Name: Klaus Myers
Age: twenty one
Gender: Male
Hair: pin straight dusty brown hair that is long enough to fall over his eyes and cover his ears.
Eyes: Has bright blue eyes with full lashes, but are always covered by his hair.
Skin: Same lightly tanned skin tone as Nicolette, only a bit darker.
Height/Build: Roughly 6 feet tall, and unlike his sister, he is built and looks somewhat strong and well muscled. He wouldn't necessarily win in a wrestling match, but he could hold his own in a street fight.
Tattoos/Piercings/Scars/Other Physical Oddities: Has a matching tattoo that says “louder than words” along his right shoulder blade.
Ability: He can blend into his surroundings, camouflaging into the scenery (including his clothing), making himself nearly invisible. It ties into how loud he is or how energetic, so if he is sulky and mysterious, he is more likely to ‘disappear’, but if he is loud and rowdy, it would be much harder for him to start blending in. If he masters this ability, he would be able to turn completely invisible, not just blend it.
Any backstory?: would be similar to Nicolette’s
Other: Nicolette’s older brother.

Felice

She kept a picture under her bed. The glossy kind you used to get printed out from Wal-Mart. Though lately it was wrinkled, with thin white worms wiggling around the colours from years of folding and creasing, and the scene shown upon the paper was hard to make out from the damage it'd taken over the years, she looked at it almost every night before bed.
It wasn't her picture. The two young, smiling faces upon it were of those who had given birth to her (as if they could be called parents) and they were who it belonged to, but it had somehow wound up in her pocket on that final night in that bloody house so many years ago. Felice had always kept it with her, and though it'd had some close calls with water a few times, it was still in one piece.
It had been taken years and years before Felice was born, in a time where there were beautiful trees and grass and blue skies and freedom and smiles and laughter. Two young lovers, their hands joined at their waists, smiles across their faces, society milling at the famous amusement park around them, taken on the perfect day. Felice had never learned how to read, but the rainbow and thick letters at the bottom were more of a logo than text. DISNEY. Made infamous by the bombs that blew it all to bits a handful of years ago. Felice ran her thumb along the scene again. She supposed it was seeing how beautiful the world once was, could maybe someday still be, that made her keep that picture closer to her than any person in her life had ever been.
A rap on the door to her cell. A voice.
"Lunch."
Robotic. Removed. Cold. That was her life now. Felice didn't reply, only stashed the picture back in it's hiding place, her back to the door.
"SarahSeven, it's lunch now."
Seven. Seven. Seven other inmates named Sarah in this facility, probably more. She knew the names were so common to make you feel more with the rest of this corrupt society, less alien, but didn't the number tagged at the end to set her apart from the bazillion other Sarahs defeat the purpose?
And then there was the beep of an employee's card over-riding the door security to force entry that she'd heard too many times. A hand her back to turn her around. Her feet slid on the ground in the thin, cheap cotton pants. Cotton. Where did they even get the stuff, if there were no lush fields to grow it in anymore?
The employee was angry, but as soon as direct eye contact was made, they re-focused their gaze lower. They always did. Anywhere but the eyes. Felice somewhat enjoyed the discomfort it gave the staff here, though she'd always hated them prior to entering the prison.
"Lunch," with a less menacing tone. You'd think they'd get used to the freaks, but it always shook them. Well, the lower-downs. The doctors wouldn't bat an eye if you had two heads. In fact, they'd most likely dive for their scalpels.
Felice debated fighting, as she did with every action in this prison. But this was the first time in weeks she'd been healthy enough from their experiments to join the rest of the prison in the public lunch room, and she couldn't deny that a tiny part of her was curious about who else was here. She got to her feet and followed the employee, who didn't even attempt to be discreet about their carefully averted eyes the entire way.

Victor

Slam. Victor felt the hard cover and all the pages it contained smash on his fingers before his eyes registered it.
"It's lunch time," The Ape hissed in his ears, as if it were something to be scared of.
Which to Victor, on second thought, it was. There was no way of telling what jacked-up compilation of drugs they'd decided to mix in with the daily dose of afternoon bread, soup, water, and a few carrots. Every day had a subtly different taste, each one more potent and sinister than the last, it seemed to the troubled teen.
The Ape, as Victor enjoyed calling him, dropped the lunch tray on the semi-table attached to Victor's medical bed and threw his book aside. A few drops of soup dribbled out the edges of the bowl. As his permanent watch for this week pulled back the curtains around him so he was joined with all the other sorry inmates who were also just recovering from who-knows-what surgery, Victor wondered if he could hold back from eating. With every swallow or bite of the food here, Victor knew more and more of his gift was being stolen from him, until he would fade back to utter normalcy alongside the rest of the world. Or die. Whichever came first. It would be pointless, though, he'd tried before. It just resulted in force-feeding though an uncomfortable IV.
The Ape was so angry. Victor had hardly even been conscious enough to start working in on his head, only enough so to give him a fitting nickname. Hairy, black, mostly muscles, full of steam. The Ape. The few times he'd bothered to speak it aloud he'd wound up with bruises and blood galore, but it didn't phase him much. Not after taking so many. Resorting to physical violence was lazy. Mental torture was somewhat of a speciality to him, and that's exactly why he'd wound up with The Ape in the first place. A staff employee always at his side to watch him, though they'd always ditch after a matter of days of having to put up with his mind games.
Keeping the somewhat wounded hand flat on the table, Victor picked up his spoon and shakily took the first sip. Incredibly bitter for chicken soup, and it was much darker than normal. Victor furrowed a brow, but continued, too tired to think of anything to say. The Ape watched him with his arms crossed from the end of the bed.
Somewhat bored, Victor looked around the room, straining to see who else was stuck in the recovery unit for lunch with him.

Seamus: Lunchtime once again. The guard entered my room and herded me out into the lunch room with the rest of everyone who wasn't off seeing the doctor or in recovery. I was handed a bunch of pills with my lunch, which I swallowed obediently after I sat down. They sometimes made me feel sick, but I was told they were for my own good. Just like the surgeries and the tests and the experiments. It hurt, but the doctors had always been there, as far back as I could remember. They'd always told me that one day they'd find what was wrong with me and fix it, and I could go back to my family. That I wouldn't hurt anymore. All I had to do was co-operate. Once a year, I was allowed to see my family. They said the same things - co-operate, get better, go home. And I wanted to. I wanted it to stop hurting. I wanted to get better, to leave. I would miss the plants. I liked the plants, liked the colour, liked how alive they were. But they hurt. They suffered as soon as I asked them to grow, got sick and died. The earth was hurting, and I could feel it. I could feel it constantly. So I let them run their tests and do their surgeries, because they assured me it wouldn't hurt anymore once I was fixed. I had another surgery in two weeks or so. They said they thought they'd finally found what was wrong. But they always said that, before every surgery. My hopes weren't high. For now I just ate my lunch obediently, oblivious to the poor quality of the food since I knew nothing else. Food was food and I needed my strength.

Peyton: WHY OH WHY WAS EVERYTHING SO PAINFULLY SLOW?! I hated this place. I hated being locked in a cell. I hated the experiments and the surgeries and the drugs they forced down my throat. And I hated the constant smells of blood and drugs and disinfectant that seemed to always permeate the building. But worst of all, I hated that I was dragged back to everyone else's agonizingly slow pace. More than anything, I itched to run, and to run PROPERLY. I couldn't stand the lack of movement. But I knew if I tried to run, I'd wind up with another solid beating which I couldn't take right now. I still had a black eye and several nasty healing bruises from last time. My ribs still ached - I was sure they'd cracked a few. They'd told me next time they'd break my legs, and I wasn't in a hurry to test that theory. The guard barged in and herded me out, prodding me in my already sore ribs and chuckling when I winced. I co-operated, but it was obvious I didn't want to. I always made that clear - I wanted no part of these people and their tactics. I wanted out, and I would fight them at every step. My guard prodded me on into the lunch room and I received my food. I new it was drugged, but I was starving. Despite the drugs laced through the food, I began devouring it, ravenous. I wouldn't just down the drugs if they gave me a little cup of pills to take like some of the brainwashed saps that'd been stuck here forever, but I had to eat, especially while I was healing. As much as I hated to take their food and by extension their drugs, I wasn't stupid. Not eating wouldn't do me any good.

Felice

Felice pushed one door open, getting some small satisfaction in walking ahead of the guard, and stepped foot into the lunch room. Other than a few droning murmurs, it was silent. Drugged, moping, twitching, crying, eating experiments. A gathering of the freakiest freaks known to man. Though she'd never voiced it, Felice had always had the suspicion that one of the ways they'd bring all of the freaks back to normal was to completely erase them. Why bother spending all the time to remove their abilities, when they could simply cause the reject inside to forget they even existed? At the thought of actually becoming Sarah, the normal and quiet and obedient girl they were desperately trying to mould her into, Felice shuddered.
Never having any opportunity to make friends, Felice wasn't sure where to sit. She scanned the room, trying to spot anyone different than the others. Someone who held their head higher, their shoulders squared, hard eyes. Body language of someone who hadn't been drugged into submission, fooled by the empty promises of "Yes, this will be over soon" and "Yes, you'll go home eventually".
A girl somewhat bullied by her guards caught her eye, and Felice immediately decided to sit with her. Rough guards were an obvious sign of someone who was a bit rebellious to their constant orders. She knew that very well herself.
The random escort just behind her, Felice filled her tray and received a random cup of pills. When she held her cup to the liquid dispenser, a beep sounded as it read the ID imprinted upon it, and something orange and bitter-smelling oozed out. She arched a brow at this, accustomed to receiving a regular glass of water, but hurried to set her tray down across from the girl. After settling, she made direct eye contact, eager to measure her reaction.
"Hi," she introduced simply.

Nicolette
Nicolette woke up slowly, and groggily. A guard was yelling at her to get up for lunch. When had she fallen asleep? And when did she slip halfway through her bed? A small groan escaped her lips as she forced herself to rise out of her bed and shake off her covers. She stepped out of her bed and stretched. The guard seemed to be keeping his distance from her, afraid she would hurt him or something. She mentally rolled her eyes. It wasn't like her power was harmful. If anything it was an annoyance. Who wants to fall half way through the floor when they are walking? It got annoying after awhile.
She didnt say anything to the guard, or even try to look at him after she got out of the bed. She ran her hands over her clothing to get straighten it out, then folded her hands in front of her. The guard grunted, a signal for her to follow. She wondered if she would see her brother today. Was he still alive? No, she couldnt start thinking like that. If she started thinking like that then it could come true. They would tell her if he passed away, wouldn't they? The two of them were family after all.
Nicolette fell in step behind the guard and walked into the lunch room. She looked around, but didn't see Klaus anywhere. She gathered her food and went to find a seat. There were a few free seats around the room and ended up sitting by Seamus.
"Hi." She smiled at him before looking down at the table, her hair falling into her face.


Klaus
Nine hundred thirty two thousand three hundred forty nine. Nine hundred thirty two thousand three hundred fifty. Every. Single. Dot. Was. Counted. That is how much time klaus had spent in this room for the past few months. He counted Nine hundred thirty two thousand three hundred fifty ceiling dots. Buy hand. When would he get out of here? It wasn't like he was dangerous. At least, he didnt think he was. Sure, he could kinda turn into a wall flower, but that wasnt that bad was it?
Buzz
Klaus sat up. That was the door.
"Klaus. You are allowed out today." Klaus all but jumped out of the bed and to the door. it opened and he waited for the guard to step aside. He was led down to the lunch room.

Seamus: My focus on my food was broken as someone sat down, saying hello. I glanced up, smiling a bit at the girl who'd sat down. "Hello! Nicole, right? Or Nicola? Something like that..... sorry if I've got it wrong." I said, making a face. I'd been here my whole life and I knew a lot of the people here, but most were merely acquaintances, and with so many in here it was hard to keep all the names and faces straight.

Peyton: I glanced up when the other girl sat down across from me, surprised but not exactly unhappy. I'd been here about five years, but had never really made many friends. Those I'd made had almost all disappeared. The doctors said they'd been fixed, had been sent home, and were happy, and once I was fixed I would go home too and maybe I could visit them. But they were lying. I knew better. "Hello." I replied levelly, keeping the eye contact, trying to get some measure of the newcomer.

Felice

She held her eyes for a few moments longer without speaking. It was an unspoken test, waiting for girl to look away, wincing, become uncomfortable. But she remained cool, which broke a slight smile on Felice's face.
She looked down at her tray, analyzing the brown heap of God-knows-what on her plate and the sickly-looking orange drink. Felice gathered that the disgusting lunch was some sort of punishment for all her behaviour, or simply needed for the stronger dose of drugs they were stuffing her with lately. It was no question that every inmate here was an abnormality, but those that posed more threats to the very organization in charge of secluding them from the rest of society such as herself were always treated worse. And it was punished. Having a more dangerous ability meant more time having your organs poked at and drugged asleep in the recovery room. Having an awful attitude towards the entire situation meant ruder guards and a small room to yourself, as opposed to a few roommates (even to introverts this eventually was just maddening, spending so much time without a single soul to talk to). And finally, using your ability in any way or being violent/resistant to anything ordered resulted in a watch guard joined at your hip, way too much detention time, wicked headaches, and as she'd just discovered, a terrible lunch.
Never one for phony introductions, Felice jumped right into what had been nagging her mind. "I'd take a mouthful of pills over this stuff," Felice gestured to her tray. "Tastes the same, anyways." She looked up from under her bangs. "How have long you been here?"

Peyton: I chuckled a bit. "I feel like a mouthful of pills might actually go down harder, but would probably come back up nicer. I've been here about five years now...... you?" I asked. I noticed the small smile. Apparently I'd passed some sort of test. Good for me. I liked that she jumped right to things, too. Someone who could get right to business was always good.

Nicolette

"Nicolette, one l and two ts." She corrected him, giving a small nervous laugh. "Not that it really matters. Most people call me Lettie. You could to, if you wanted. or nico. or Nicole. Doesnt matter." She realized that she was rambling and shut her mouth. A nervous habit was to ramble, and nervous habbites usually led to her getting half way stuck in a piece of furnerature. She looked at the pills on her plate and sighed, picking them up and swallowing them. She didnt know why they gave pills and whatever was in the meals to the kids. In all actuality, she didnt understand why they wanted to change the kids. Was it so wrong to leave them the way they were? Well, of course it was, otherwise they would let them stay how they are.

Klaus
Lettie! Klaus grabbed his meal and crossed the room, finding his sister sitting with some other guy. "Hey you two." He didnt hesitate before sitting next to his sister. He gave a small one armed hug to her and a warm smile before taking his pills and starting his lunch.

Victor

An uncomfortably silent and bitter lunch later, a nurse approached his bedside and read numbers from a machine hooked up to him that were incoherent to Victor. She was prettier than most of the sorry people working here, with unapologetic red lips and a gentle curl to her hair. He watched her with haunted eyes as she took down the information, and he wondered why this nurse had wound up here. She looked down upon him, her upper lip curling just slightly upwards with disgust for him, this bruised sack of bones laying in this stingy hospital bed.
"Your charts read well. I suppose you've got permission to leave now and return to your living quarters after the post-lunch programs you have scheduled."
Victory barely heard the flat and removed words. All he could see were those lips. Dammit. They didn't bother to remove his hormones, no, of course not.
She gave him an up-and-down look (technically, it was a side-to-side, since he was laying down) and the disgust became even more evident on her features. She held the papers to her chest and turned on her heel, hurrying away. Under her breath he caught mumbles about "bloody freaks in this mad-house" or something, which he supposed he deserved.
The Ape was the opposite of gentle as he tore the IV needle from Victor's hand and forced him out of bed. Unsteadily, he balanced himself. It wouldn't be much longer before the pounding head-ache set in. The Ape began leading him down to the changing room, a relief, as a hospital dress did nothing to cover his ... reaction, to the nurse.

Felice

Still not taking a single bite of her meal, Felice raised her eyebrows in surprise. Five years and she was still alive, still not a lapdog? It gave her some hope. Her response triggered a recent memory of gagging herself to throw up one of the first few drugged meals they'd given her, and how almost instantly a guard was at her door with another tray of food. They watched you everywhere in this hell.
"Not long. A couple of weeks," Felice admitted with a hint of regret to her voice. She'd been hoping to get out in a few days and back to...whatever before was. It wasn't clear to her how much her ability had diminished at this point, but the absolutely crippling headaches she experienced when just slightly trying to exert it gave her a good idea.
"How'd you wind up here?" she asked, and could feel the angry eyes of her guard on her for avoiding the food, but she pretended not to notice.

Seamus: I smiled a little sheepishly, a bit embarrassed over getting it wrong. "Whatever you'd prefer..." I said. At least because I'd messed it up once, I'd probably remember if I needed her name again. I smiled a bit as another guy showed up. "Hello~" I greeted, really not minding at all. I didn't know either of them well at all, but I always welcomed company.

Peyton: "Not long, then. Well, welcome. Although im sure that's not something you wish you had to hear...." I said. I frowned a bit when she asked me how I'd got here, not really loving that topic. "I was with a group of people like us. We got caught." I said simply, not going into any more details than that. "How about you?"

Felice

"I've been wandering for years. Some pompous bitch saw my eyes and decided I didn't deserve the same air as her, and I wound up here," she explained, managing a sort of laugh at the end.
To further provoke the edgy guard, Felice picked up the cup of liquids, sloshed it around a little, and set it back down upon the tray. Fiercely enjoying seeing the expression on their face out of the corner of her eye, Felice widened her smile.
"What've you got lined up for post-lunch activity? I think I'm in Careers."
Careers. Most of their free time were filled up with these types of classes. Things like Manners, Social Behaviour, Money Management. As if it were preparing them to settle back into society. What actually happened was being placed in a dark room by yourself for an hour or so and watching a dull, uninformative film. But Felice always felt watched during the viewings, and her body would often also do strange things. Random intense cold, or heat, a wave of nausea at nothing in particular, a surge of energy, overwhelming needs to sleep, and more. As if the films were affecting her body, in a way. She wanted to write it off as just an affect of the drugs, but it seemed like more, though she had no one to voice the suspicion to.

Nicolette
"Lettie is fine. This is my brother, Klaus." She nudged her brother who sat next to her. The food in front of her was so unapatizing, but she started to eat it anyway. "I knew you werent dead, by the way."

Klaus raised an eyebrow at her.

"I thought you were dead earlier."

"Good to know you have so much faith in me."

Peyton: "Sucks...." I said, grimacing. At least my abnormality was relatively easy to hide. But the kids with the physical differences had it worst off.... "Im stuck in Manners." I grumbled, pulling a face. Like showing me some stupid video on how to act like a proper little lady would change me at all. It was just tedious and nauseating.

Seamus: I grinned, happy to have some nice conversation. "Its nice to meet you both. My name's Seamus." I said, introducing myself. I raised a brow quizzically listening to them talk. It was good that neither were dead. It was rare to have family in here, and for the other to die would be terrible. Friends and family were important in this place, and losing anyone was rough.

Klaus
"I know." He continued to pick at his food, glancing over at Lettie every few moments. "I... Uh.... I hear things. I'm always just... round." Klaus shrugged and continued to look at his plate. "I dont know if I know everyones name in this room, but I know a good few. At least, those who have been here for more than three weeks."

Felice

She gave a small nod, but before she could open her mouth to ask what the girl's name was, she felt a finger tap her shoulder. Felice remembered just a moment too late after she turned her head to look what was going to happen.
The fist that collided with the side of her face was hard enough to cause her to fall right off of the bench and onto the floor, her head slamming against the glossy white tiles with an audible crack.
A mouth was beside her ear. "Next time, eat your lunch."
Next time..? Where was she going? It was all too confusing, but the blackness that washed over her and swept her far, far away, hopefully for the next few hours, promised no confusion or pain, and she let herself fall within it.
The guard stood over her unconscious body, ignoring the silent eyes of every misfit in the room on him. When he looked up, he left out a sort of snort, and called out loud for everyone to hear, "Shouldn't you all be on your way now?"
With that, he grabbed one of the girl's arms, and dragged her by it across the floor and out of the cafeteria.

Seamus: I laughed softly, smiling a bit. "Well, that's me. I know most of the faces, but I'm bad with names. Its hard to keep them all straight...." I admitted. It was tricky, when there were just so many people.... and no everyone was nice either. Many people here were just hostile, and finding out their name was almost impossible.

Peyton: I was on my feet ready to launch myself at the guard in literally a fraction of a second, but my own guard swiftly dealt a rather unmerciful blow to my ribs that knocked my breath away, the sudden lancing pain enough to make my vision go black for a second, nausea rising. My damaged ribs were not happy about the extra abuse. Before I could recover, I felt the prick of the needle and the world slipping away. They'd quickly learned to arm any of my guards with tranquilizers to knock me out so I could be caught. The drugs were strong - I didnt stand a chance. Everything was very quickly just.... gone.

Felice

Blackness. For a long time. Nothing, and blackness, and blackness was nothing. Time didn't exist, and then all at once, it did.
Felice opened her eyes, and then shut them almost immediately. Ow. Way too bright. Her head was pounding something fierce. For a while she lay there, trying to recall what events had lead up to this.
She knew she wasn't alone. After some time, she put together that the noise around her were from voices, in the cold tone that only staff members spoke with. There was a consistent, annoying beep to her...left? Right? Felice was still too disoriented to tell. She knew she should open her eyes, but truth be told, she didn't want to. Felice knew she had to be brave and face whatever this was, and she did.
A flood of light. Again, ow. The ache in her head was stronger, and a sick realization came to her. She was in an operating room. Felice hadn't undergone any type of experiments in this facility yet, but she was well aware that it went on. What did they need to do to her that the drugs and classes weren't already? Looking around, she saw an IV in her arm, and the beep was coming from a machine filled up with seemingly random numbers and words.
And there were binds on her legs and wrists. Binds? Why binds? Wouldn't they drug her to sleep if she restrained?
They'd drug her, right?
Despite all the challenges and close-calls she'd faced, she'd never been this horrified. What was going to happen to her? Felice turned her head, noticing there were beds all around her. Was anyone else being operated on, or prepared to? If so, there might be some hope for her yet.
"Hello?" she whispered, hoping it wouldn't alert the surgeons she saw through a window outside of the room.