THE MOCK WEEK

[grimgrinningghosts]

[You find yourself waking in a large dressing room, incredibly spacious, but in intense disarray. The bed is comfortable enough, and each room seems to be equipped with a working bathroom and shower, so it's at least livable. But aesthetically, the place has hit the floor.

The horrifying clock mounted on the wall reads 9 am. After enough searching, you'll find a large tourist-y map of the studio on one of the dressers. An ominous note attached to the map with a paperclip reads "12PM WAITING AREA". It's not like you have any choice in the matter, seeing as there doesn't seem to be any way out.

Upon exiting the dressing room, you note a crooked star attached to the door bearing your name. There are 24 others like this, bearing names that you may or may not recognize. A quick tour around the studio reveals it to be in a similar state of disrepair, but something doesn't sit...right with you. Though the place is certainly creepy, you get strange vibes as you explore the building. As you move about the dust-filled halls of the abandoned building, you may spot movement out of the corner of your eye, or hear strange noises from behind you. It's nothing to be worried about, though...right?

At the very least, you'll find some comfort. The projection room and attached theater still seem to be in working order, though you'll have to manually grab one of the reels off the wall and start the thing yourself. In addition, the waiting area and lounge are both filled with reading materials, and the later features a large stage and a microphone. The commissary seems to replenish itself with food whenever you take your eyes off of it, ensuring that we won't be going hungry anytime soon. There are also cabinets full of ingredients and a small kitchen should you not trust whatever your benefactor is placing out for you.

Fortunately for them, the smaller individuals amongst your party won't find a great deal of difficulty moving around. Though their beds remain oversized, there seem to be appropriately-sized staircases and escalators placed about in appropriate spots, so as to make their lives easier. After all, they can't just keep relying on the others to get up to the cabinets and such, can they?

While you're waiting to find out what the deal here is, you might as well come out and socialize.]

(ooc: Welcome to the Foolish Mortals Mock Week! Please follow us on Plurk at foolishmortals for updates, and if you're so inclined, please feel free to join your Discord-inept head moderator as he struggles to set up a Discord chat up for everyone.)

Comments

[terribibble]

Uh.

[He gives himself a moment to think. Thinking involves drinking a little more whiskey.]

Don't know if I could make somethin' strong enough. Not out of somethin' so small.

[pardonmylanguage]

Oh...that's a shame. [She looks over the blueprints.] Those designs look pretty good, from what I can tell. J. Lo would definitely like them. [A pause] That's my little brother. He picked the name himself.

[terribibble]

[At least Fiddleford, being from the turn of the 80s, has no idea why J. Lo is maybe an odd name for someone's little brother.]

I wish I could. I really, really, really... [Whoops. Lost the end of that thought. What was it? It's fine. Probably not important.]

How old is he? Your brother.

[pardonmylanguage]

Oh... [She's not sure honestly. She never really asked him how old he was in Boov years, or how that even translated to human years. Time to bluff.] Around nine or ten, I guess? He's...adopted, so we're not sure of his exact age. But he's really interested in gadgets and inventions like that. [She does smile a little when thinking of him.]

[terribibble]

[Aw. That's... that's cute. It's just as cute as it is disturbing to have it brought home exactly how many among their number are so young.]

So he'd be about my boy's age. [He thinks. He doesn't like to acknowledge that it's hard to remember exactly how old his own son is.] I could design you somethin' to bring back to him. For when we get out.

[Because they're going to get out. Somehow. Some way. Right?

They are not going to get out.]

[pardonmylanguage]

You have a son? He must be pretty worried then. [She remembers her own mom getting abducted and how freaked out she was.] Thanks for the offer though. I'm sure he'll be pretty excited about it.

[terribibble]

[... He is absolutely not going to tell this kid who is probably already in a real bad way about how his family just imploded in on itself. He is absolutely not drunk enough yet to think that's appropriate information to share right now.]

What sort of things does he like? Cars? Dinosaurs? I made a pterodactyl, once.

[Please just give him something to do. A distraction. That's what he wants.]

[pardonmylanguage]

A toy one? [She seems to think about it.] He has lots of stuff he likes, and he keeps changing. Although I guess he does like cars. Especially those ones from superhero shows that have a bunch of random stuff built in.

[terribibble]

Oh! Like rockets and extendable wings and the like.

[pardonmylanguage]

Pretty much, yeah.