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Giving Your Statement - Sunday June 10th, 1923


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Christa Linda ChristaLindaportrait2.png.36fc59092e732a3b72246e53a486358a.png
 


image.png.cc6d5b20d77fd7168d7503b819d1027d.png Hit Points: 10/10 | Lucky icon Luck: 35/35 | Sanity icon Sanity: 65/65


Location: Campus Security Office | Conditions/Effects: None

"Mr. Loggins," Christa Linda began, her voice carrying a sense of urgency despite her rambling nature. "You see, I have this rather peculiar problem that I've been grappling with lately. It's about these fines I've been receiving from the authorities," she continued, her words tumbling out in a stream of consciousness.

She gestured animatedly with her hands as she spoke, her gaze occasionally flitting to the locked cell where the prisoner was held. "You see, it's all about permits and proper restraint for my animals," she explained, her tone betraying a hint of frustration. "But the thing is, I've always had my pets by my side, and it's never been an issue before. Now, it's becoming quite the nuisance, especially with all these fines piling up."

Christa Linda paused briefly, allowing Mr. Loggins to absorb her words before continuing with her rambling narrative. "I mean, I've tried to comply with their regulations, but it just seems like they keep finding something new to nitpick about. It's rather exasperating, to say the least," she added with a small sigh, her brow furrowing in concern.

Meanwhile, the commotion near the campus security office went unnoticed by Christa Linda, her attention fully consumed by her own musings and the conversation with Mr. Loggins. She remained oblivious to the retching, gasping, and speechless reactions of the men nearby, her focus solely on finding a solution to her own predicament.

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It was perhaps lucky that the University had entered break and few were on campus, for anyone walking into the security office at that moment would likely have started shouting for help. Even if one were to ignore the flapping of wings and barking of dogs, there was a palatable energy in the air. A nervous, almost frantic sense that would set anyone walking in on edge just as it had many already in the room.

Chief Williams was waving away the helping hand being offered by Tobey, himself a little shaken by seeing the odd corpse in the cell but not falling apart as the security officer had.

“Oh, just horrible. Horrible,” he repeated as he got to his feet wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and leaning on Tobey for a moment. It was clear as he walked past the desk with the pile of clothes folded on top of it, a pair of shoes and wallet laying atop them all, that the chief was still addled by what he had seen.

“I need to report this. No sense using the phone though,” he called out to Herman who was shouting into the phone, asking for the operator over and over even though she had already connected, answered him then disconnected as he babbled randomly into the mouthpiece. “Police are all out dealing with that accident, no one will be able to be sent over for some time. Have to go tell them, get this reported.”

Whether it was the motion outside the cell as Tobey stood to look after Chief Williams or the pressure of air from one of Christa Linda’s dogs barking right outside the iron bars, the body under Edmund’s curious examination crumbled in a sudden collapse of dust and small grey bits. Staggering back, Edmund avoided breathing in the wispy cloud of what had once been a man.

In the ensuing confusion from Edmund’s shout and the realization as to why, Chief Williams calmly grabbed his coat, walked past Herman who was still shouting into his phone and out the door muttering about the importance of reporting this to the police.

This left Tobey and Christa, those who were not caught up fully in the happenings of this drab, simple office, to wonder just what was going on.

 

OOC

So Chief Williams is obviously in the throes of some kind of mania from what he saw and Edmund is caught in his own obsession. There are stacks of papers and notes on one desk, clothes on the other and a pile of dust on the cot of the cell.

 

 

Edited by Rumguzzle (see edit history)
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After his shout and sudden retreat, Edmund rallies at the cell door. Gazing fixedly at dry traces of what had been a human body, the professor speaks softly, as if to himself.

"Memento homo, quod cinis es, et in cinerem reverteris."

 

Edited by TheOldTraveller (see edit history)
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