At about 50 hours, Erika's vision starts to slide away from lines of code. Something in the network itself, a bug, a shrieking cicada they found and couldn't squash and - now it's even harder to do that. Everything on this station is impossible, unbreakable. Ensconced in the VR room, Erika seethes.
Her frustration doubles. Triples. She takes Memetan in hand like a flail and beats the room's console - just once, to let off steam - but it's not just once, it's over and over until there's a nasty crunch and Erika's heart freezes because that's the sound of something breaking inside her stuffed companion.
...
Minutes later, she storms out and through the bar, eyes red and face set in a vicious glare. And when she reaches the hall, she starts marching, fast-walking down the corridors as steadily as she can (not perfectly steadily).
There's no direction and no goal, except for inexplicable mania and a persistent little thought that maybe, if she wears herself out, she can just pass out. Certainly it's exhausting - now and then she does collapse against a wall, breathing heavily, her lack of athleticism caught up to her - but not enough. She waits like that, then slaps the wall and the floor in aggravation until her hand stings, then lies there for long minutes until her racing mind catches up to her again, then hauls herself up with a groan and starts over.]
[96 hours]
[She's so tired. She's so tired. (Everyone is tired.) She's in the mess hall, forcing some kind of sustenance into her body. She's on Deck 3 and in her room, hauling sheets and pillows to the elevator with shaky hands and weak arms. She's in the VR room, cocooning herself and poor Botamon away to try to muffle the sound. She's in the bar, sitting vacantly by the door to the VR room, just to know that there are people around and that someone will know if...something...happens.
Her lips move. Sound doesn't usually come out. Sometimes whispers, though, sometimes snippets of words that are snippets of conversation, with - someone?
"It's not like that."
"What about the seasons?"
"Maybe we could use that."
Exasperated snorts.
"You can really pack a punch, though."
Strange things, definitely meant to be heard by someone. By who? By you? You might be the only person in earshot.]
[120 hours]
[The need to know someone is there fights the sheer grating agony of yet more noise grating on her limp nerves and dragging her back into the world where that awful fucking music is still playing and she's so tired she's ready to die - and loses.
Erika goes into the VR room, shuts the door (but doesn't lock it), wraps herself and poor poor Botamon in sheets one last time, and doesn't come out under her own power, for food or water or anything. Between blinks, she fuzzes out of her body and drops into a twisting world of endless hunger, and it's safer, she thinks in moments of near-lucidity, to not involve anyone else in that.
Approaching her is a toss-up. She might not respond at all. She might have something resembling reason. She might ramble strangely and desperately. She might become frantic, and hit and claw and yell. It depends on what she sees, and what she hears, and whether there's a lull in the godawful music.
Try your luck, if you want. For her sake, or for your own interest, or just to make sure that's not a dead body in the VR room.]
[168+ hours]
[She's sleeping for a long ass time but someone please get some water into her at least. That's, uh, that's important.
Also some food into...Botamon?...who is sitting at the door from the bar to the VR room and WAILING weakly to call for help and attention when it first wakes up.]
[[ooc: one only please for any initial check on Erika; after that, Wanyamon will either be sleeping on her or hanging with one of its other near-comatose human friendpals, but Erika is still in the VR room to be woken up and whatever.]]
Erika Mishima | OTA | cw hallucinations
[This is no longer fine.
At about 50 hours, Erika's vision starts to slide away from lines of code. Something in the network itself, a bug, a shrieking cicada they found and couldn't squash and - now it's even harder to do that. Everything on this station is impossible, unbreakable. Ensconced in the VR room, Erika seethes.
Her frustration doubles. Triples. She takes Memetan in hand like a flail and beats the room's console - just once, to let off steam - but it's not just once, it's over and over until there's a nasty crunch and Erika's heart freezes because that's the sound of something breaking inside her stuffed companion.
...
Minutes later, she storms out and through the bar, eyes red and face set in a vicious glare. And when she reaches the hall, she starts marching, fast-walking down the corridors as steadily as she can (not perfectly steadily).
There's no direction and no goal, except for inexplicable mania and a persistent little thought that maybe, if she wears herself out, she can just pass out. Certainly it's exhausting - now and then she does collapse against a wall, breathing heavily, her lack of athleticism caught up to her - but not enough. She waits like that, then slaps the wall and the floor in aggravation until her hand stings, then lies there for long minutes until her racing mind catches up to her again, then hauls herself up with a groan and starts over.]
[96 hours]
[She's so tired. She's so tired. (Everyone is tired.) She's in the mess hall, forcing some kind of sustenance into her body. She's on Deck 3 and in her room, hauling sheets and pillows to the elevator with shaky hands and weak arms. She's in the VR room, cocooning herself and poor Botamon away to try to muffle the sound. She's in the bar, sitting vacantly by the door to the VR room, just to know that there are people around and that someone will know if...something...happens.
Her lips move. Sound doesn't usually come out. Sometimes whispers, though, sometimes snippets of words that are snippets of conversation, with - someone?
"It's not like that."
"What about the seasons?"
"Maybe we could use that."
Exasperated snorts.
"You can really pack a punch, though."
Strange things, definitely meant to be heard by someone. By who? By you? You might be the only person in earshot.]
[120 hours]
[The need to know someone is there fights the sheer grating agony of yet more noise grating on her limp nerves and dragging her back into the world where that awful fucking music is still playing and she's so tired she's ready to die - and loses.
Erika goes into the VR room, shuts the door (but doesn't lock it), wraps herself and poor poor Botamon in sheets one last time, and doesn't come out under her own power, for food or water or anything. Between blinks, she fuzzes out of her body and drops into a twisting world of endless hunger, and it's safer, she thinks in moments of near-lucidity, to not involve anyone else in that.
Approaching her is a toss-up. She might not respond at all. She might have something resembling reason. She might ramble strangely and desperately. She might become frantic, and hit and claw and yell. It depends on what she sees, and what she hears, and whether there's a lull in the godawful music.
Try your luck, if you want. For her sake, or for your own interest, or just to make sure that's not a dead body in the VR room.]
[168+ hours]
[She's sleeping for a long ass time but someone please get some water into her at least. That's, uh, that's important.
Also some food into...Botamon?...who is sitting at the door from the bar to the VR room and WAILING weakly to call for help and attention when it first wakes up.]
[[ooc: one only please for any initial check on Erika; after that, Wanyamon will either be sleeping on her or hanging with one of its other near-comatose human friendpals, but Erika is still in the VR room to be woken up and whatever.]]