Yes there is
The Lab/8/10 spots filled
(May I join then? I don't mind if it's a lab assistant or a test subject… Maybe a combo? Like my character started out as one but slowly joined the other? Feel free to shoot that down if you want.)
I will think about that but yes maybe starting as a test subject (at least for now)
Awesome! Are we ready to start, then?
Name: Maggie
Age: 17
I'm ready
Totally ready
Same!
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Deleted user
MY NAME IS FREDDY AND I AM INDEED READY!
Then lets start!
Yay!
Yay!
Who's starting?
Well since @MetAllicaSlash created this, I think they should post the starter.
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I was fine with starting but that's a good point.
(I like your starter ^^ )
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(I copy and pasted it just in case)
Rewind to 15 years prior to this, in a car. "Mom, where are we going?" right after that, CRASH. Then it went blank… Dave wakes up in a chair, handcuffed. "Why is he handcuffed, he won't harm anyone?". After they realized he was awake, they started asking questions…15 YEARS LATER. "Crystal, I heard there are new test subjects today."
(Please talk like this if out of RP from now on, Thanks)
(I don't really understand what's happening)
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Crystal looked up from her cell, where she had been sitting there prior. She was a college grad, fresh onto the working streets. At first. Sociology Degree, Psychology,Herbology, All the Ology's. She got straight a's. She had a 4.0 GPA, but the didn't realize that till after the tests. Her fox ears perked up, and her one fox eye trained on you. It was simple the genetic changes she had, but she could never live the normal one she was supposed to, thus making her trapped here until the end of her days. "Oh is there dear?" Nonetheless she remained one of the kindest and most stubborn doctors there, leaving behind a motherly,aunt-like,or grandmotherly impression. "Well then, let them into the cells around me. It gets lonely after a time." She had a possibly English accent, but it was a light one.
(How should the test subjects start off?)
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(Filed into the test subject room?)
school
Emaelia tried to stretch her wings, but remembered at the last second she couldn't, her cell was too small for that. Luckily, she had found a way through that. She slowly extended either wing through the bars of the cell. Ah that felt nice. She bit her lip again, which was a habit she had whenever she didn't know what to do. Emaelia tasted the metallic taste of blood on her tongue and swallowed it, like usual. She'd just have another tiny scar there. She reached a finger up to touch the sharp edges of her teeth and flinched. Her total wingspan was a little over four yards - it'd been measured. Every other day she'd been here. Every. Day. Since she was a little kid. When she was five, it was okay. She didn't know what was going on at all, and she was fine with it. In fact, she loved showing off her wings. But then she grew older and her brain matured slowly and she realized why she was there. She was just the experimental mouse, and they were the scientists. I'd be lucky if they don't put me down, she thought. Emaelie laughed softly. Put me down, like one would say about an animal. I'm not an animal, but they certainly act like it.
It was safe to say that Caspian was very panicked. He'd kicked and thrashed about madly until it became apparent that the guard wasn't going to uncuff him or release him any time soon. Every once and a while he would try, futilely, to pull away, but his struggles mostly ceased as he tried to make out his surroundings. He couldn't stay here, after all—he had a younger sister to get back to. "Do you kidnap kids for fun, then?" he sneered, once again trying to wrench himself free of the guard's iron grip. His eyes seemed to flash in the light, something they'd done ever since he was born. "Ocular albinism," the doctor had told his mother, all those years ago. "It shouldn't cause him any trouble as long as he wears his glasses and gets his eyes checked every so often." Yeah? Well where are you now, Mr. Doctor-man? his mind supplied sarcastically. Blaming his eyes was the only reason the teen could think of for being in this situation, and it was easier to blame something he had no control over rather than accept the fact that he'd been walking in the dangerous part of town too late at night—with a bad leg, nevertheless. Well, he supposed, nothing I can do about it now. His glasses had long since been lost in the struggle, and now he could only make out blurry figures. It didn't help that he had next to no depth perception without them.
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Crystal sat up, and as soon as her hands touched the bars, vines blooming with flowers began to cover them. Magic. She was one of the last truly magical beings in the world, as she watched him be placed into the cell right across from her. She offered a smile, her eyes twinkling. She then looked over and saw Emealia stretching. "Emealia, you have the prettiest wings you know that?" She said. Crystal tried her best to be kind, and use kindness instead of force to lure them in. It worked like a charm, most gave into her motherly aura a lot better.
Cas couldn't fully suppress a yelp as he was roughly shoved into the cell. His leg, injured as it was, couldn't support his weight when he tried to take a step forward, sending him sprawling onto the ground in a heap of anger and embarrassment. To make matters even worse, his hands were still cuffed behind his back. In a series of grunts, he managed to get his good knee under him and sit up, finally turning to face where the voice had come from. He squinted, only able to see a fuzzy green color he was sure hadn't been there a minute ago. "Who are you?" he demanded, the back of his neck prickling at the feeling of being watched. He was torn between hiding in the back of whatever sort of cell he'd been forced into or stepping closer to the bars in the hopes that he could see who was in the vicinity. In the end, he went with the latter, nearly toppling over as he forced his bad leg to support him long enough to lean against the wall. He hissed at the pain, but pushed it asides as he hobbled closer to the bars, apparently forgetting about his lack of depth perception and plowing right into the extremely solid metal. "AH, Sh*t!" he cussed, falling on his butt in front of what he presumed to be the door. Accepting defeat, he slumped heavily against the wall and hung his head, his injured leg splayed in front of him at an awkward angle.
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She sighed. She was in a little nicer cell. Her cot had padding, and when they needed her to doctor, or when she needed to get out, all she had to do was press a button on the wall, and give a report and reasoning for why she needed to leave. "I am Crystal Love Rosethorn, but everyone calls me Momma Crys, Auntie Rose, or Crissy." She reached over and pressed the button, and waited for a guard. He arrived and after quickly explaining your injury, they let her out. She then headed out of the room to a locker room, where she got a lab coat on, and grabbed some medical supplies and a set of keys. She came back to the cells, and went over to Cas's cell, and unlocked it. "Crystal here, I'm a doctor and experiment. Now. I am going to bandage your leg alright? It's going to hurt but will heal better if I fix it so just, sit tight." And she pulled back your pants leg and began to feel along the bone, and then bandaged it.
Maggie let out a series of loud shrieks and growls as she fought against the guards. Her hair was currently a mix of red and yellow showing her anger and fear, her eyes were a harsh animalistic gold. She let out one last yelp as a guard struck her between the shoulder blades as they threw her in a cage. Once the door closed her hair and eyes faded back to plain brown thanks to the silver that coated the interior, except for the floor.
For the first few minutes Diara had thrashed and growled in the guard's hands, before concluding that he should just let it happen. He was pushed through the hallways, and eventually into a cell. Pain spiked from the shoulder he landed on, and he tensed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Despite that pain, that was not what worried him. What had his squeezing and his lungs sporadic was the fact that his hands were bound. He couldn't speak.
All his life, Diara had been a selective mute. He wad born with a genetic anxiety disorder, which affected his ability to speak to others outside those he was close to. However, the majority of the people close to him had died, so he became something of a full on mute and he only talked when truly needed.
He took a deep breath and sat up. He did a breathing exercise for a minute, the said, "Where am I?"