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Snippet #2455304

located in The Medialoum, a part of Coffee in Hell, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Medialoum

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Genocide McCall Character Portrait: Cecil Caerwyn
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Nothing about that day should have been unusual. Yes, there was a storm carrying on outside, but weather came and went, and, in all fairness, it didn't seem like much of a portent of doom. Just another rainy day that made for excellent reading and, if Cecil was completely honest with himself (which he often wasn't), excellent cuddling weather as well, so a storm hardly seemed like an ill omen. In fact, the day had been going wonderfully. No one had any issues that they needed Cecil to solve in the Mediaolum, no one harassing him while he tried to get work done, no one invading his privacy unless you counted Genocide who, Cecil supposed with a blush that he would deny until the end of the world, wasn't so much invading as visiting previously conquered lands.

That was why he was caught entirely off guard, dropping the tome in his hand to the ground with an loud crash, by that… that sensation. The sensation was hard to describe, and goodness knows that Cecil had tried to explain it many times, but the best he could get was calling it a tingling sensation, raising goose bumps along his arms in its wake and causing his wings to twitch anxiously. It didn't feel particularly bad, more like his entire body threatening to fall asleep simultaneously, but he'd felt the sensation far too many times before to simply discount it. It was the sensation he'd felt so many years ago when his town had been attacked, before each sneak attack during the Great War, even here in the Mediaolum during the times he'd been caught up in dangerous business.

But he wouldn't panic because it could be nothing, he reasoned, bending over to pick up his heavy book. This was the Mediaolum after all, not a war zone, and, besides, this was the house of the Guardians where the biggest danger tended to be annoying people, angels, and/or demons bothering him. Yes, there must be a reasonable explanation to all of this because today was so utterly pleasant. And the day was pleasant- it was just too bad that the storm raging outside didn't get the memo.

Cecil heard what happened before anything else, a deafening crash echoing throughout the halls nearly sending him tumbling to the floor. There was no time to question or wonder what had just happened because immediately following the booming noise was another sound. The angel couldn't place it at first, but as it neared him the answer became obvious. It was the sound of rocks and mortar tumbling to the floor, of screaming people calling for help or mercy. The roof was caving in. He could see it now, hairline cracks racing along the ceiling above him, quickly broadening into larger gaps. The roof wasn't falling all at once, spreading out instead from the epicenter of the initial impact.

Cecil's wings spread out, feathers touching the walls around him as he made to retreat backwards with one mighty flap, but he was too late. The ceiling buckled above him and brought with it stone raining painfully down upon him, burying him in debris and dust until one well-placed rock cracked against his skull. Red, red blood began to sprout from within his blonde locks, trailing steadily down his face, and, unable to move, Cecil watched the single bead of blood make its way down the tip of his nose before he was swallowed into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, that wasn't quite right. He felt conscious, but it was like the pain had disappeared and now only darkness surrounded him. And he couldn't quite… Couldn't quite grasp onto his thoughts… What had just happened…? He struggled to remember, but the memories, silvery wisps in his own mind, were scuttling away from his grasp, teasing him, taunting him, disappearing into some dark corner of his mind. No, no, this couldn't be happening. Already bits and pieces of his memory were darting away from his mind, leaving him feeling desperate and empty and not knowing why. Desperate and empty.. he almost gave a hysteric laugh. That sounded utterly dirty, a joke in the making for one of the girls or Atti… What girls? Atti…? At a…? At where? He was so confused now, so, so confused.

Where was Genocide? Cecil clasped desperately onto that train of thought, fearful that it too would vanish. Genocide made sense. His friend, his lover, his… his other half. But, now, that memory was trying to escape now too, Cecil realized in horror. No, no, he couldn't forget his Geni. He couldn't. Who would he be without him? Oh, Heavenly Father, he couldn't. He couldn't let this happen- Genocide! Genocide! He had to remember Genocide! The cigarette smoke that seemed to constantly swirl around him, that charming grin, all of the little things he'd done for him, done to him. Genocide! Genocide. Genocide… genocide. Genocide? He felt empty, but what did that have to do with mass murder?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Cecil awoke, he felt like he was being suffocated and crushed simultaneously. Why…? Oh. It was because he was being suffocated and crushed simultaneously. Cecil struggled desperately from within the debris despite the aches and pains darting around his body and the intense throbbing pain in his head. He soon surfaced, gasping for breath, and looked around. It was chaos, crumbled bits of what appeared to be ceiling surrounding him like he was in a massive ruin and rain steadily beating down on him from the gaping hole above. Where was he? Hadn't he just been home? Yes, yes, it was right after he'd been… been demoted. He wasn't thinking straight... how had be gotten here? Where was here? Oh, God, he'd been hit in the head again. This couldn't be happening again! Cecil struggled to hear something, anything because no, no, he couldn't be deaf again.

"Where! Is! Cecil! Oh, thank the Good Lord, a voice. A voice that he agreed with. Yes, where was Cecil? Oh, wait. Cecil jerked his head upwards, immediately regretting it as the pain in his head increased tenfold. That was someone calling for him. Probably. Maybe wherever he was had another Cecil?

"Hello…?" It wasn't much of a shout, or much of a thing too shout if someone was looking for him, but it was the most he could manage at the moment without exacerbating his aching head.