Quoted By:
<span class="mu-b">Anton…</span> yea, that’s your name. Feels pretty familiar now that you let it leave your dry lips a few times… <span class="mu-i">Anton…</span>
… wait, do you have a last name? Is ‘Anton’ a pseudonym? Crap!
Shaking your head in frustration, you feel your shaggy, matted hair flop around on your shoulders–you must have had a rough sleep based on how sweaty and tired you feel. Grabbing a handful of what feels like one of your oversized sleep shirts, you air out your stomach as you give your butt a lazy scratch.
With your name now plastered back into the surface of your brain, you’re free to follow other worthy pursuits, chief among them the fact that you’re STILL in a cold, dark, musty room that smells like black mold and ozone. You don’t even know what the hell ozone is, but you’re pretty sure you can smell it!
Rising to your bare, shaky feet, you flinch as your heel comes in contact with a pool of warm liquid–one you’re pretty certain ain’t drool. Drawing on your immense well of masculine power, a falsetto ‘<span class="mu-i">EEEEH!</span>’ escapes your drool-caked lips as your reflexes carry you out of the puddle and onto what feels like a line drawn in…
… <span class="mu-s">CANDLE WAX</span>? Who can say?
This would be way easier if your damn eyes adjusted already–you never paid much attention in science class, but you vaguely remember that your eyes are supposed to adjust to low light eventually… that or your eyes are supposed to transform. Your memory’s still foggy.
In any case, the dark room doesn’t answer any questions you have, instead remaining content with judging you in a way only a drafty, impassive room can.
What do?
>Call out for help! If this is a prank then it sucks!
>Inspect the wax a bit closer!
>Check out that gross puddle on the floor! It’s still warm, eeeeeww!
>Scour the room for loot and items… maybe there’s a clue in here?
>Try to unearth some more memories!
>Write-In!
