DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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NIGHT 54: West Wing, North Hall 1-A
and I hate you but I'd die for you.
sanguinario wrote in damned
[From here.]

At least if he couldn't soothe anything else, he could soothe the flashlight. While it seemed to rebel by flickering a few more times, the light stayed steady otherwise. So now, on top of attempting to supply himself with blood so he didn't randomly select a new victim and get stabbed between his ribs again or set on fire, he had to find new batteries for a finicky flashlight before it permanently went out.

Welcome to your eternity, Edward Cullen.

At this point, vampire or not, his overwhelmingly human biology was beginning to work against him in waves. The muscles of his calves felt tight and warm; his mouth was parched, without even saliva to attempt to cool his body of exertion. His throat was raw, and he felt like calling it burning was an apt description now that he had had several first-hand encounters with varying degrees of burns. All in all, the combination was not pleasant. After he'd thrown open the - what, fourth, fifth? - door, he paused just inside the door frame to lean against the wall, taking deep breath. He wasn't out of breath of course, but it helped him focus. The pause helped his muscles from complaining too loudly.

Now that he was almost there, his walk was almost leisurely.

[To here.]

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[From here.]

The Scarecrow was thankful that the halls were devoid of soldiers, though that might have meant they were transformed by the night like the nurses were and wandering the Horrible Hallway instead. He regretted thinking like that almost instantly as he felt that tingling run down his back again.

He padded down the hallway quickly, just in case they were lurking about somewhere. Getting caught so soon wouldn't do him any good.

[To here.]

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