I am the passenger

It pains me to do this, but.

But I'm really realizing now that I just don't have the time,
brainpower, or creativity to give my characters in Fandom High the
kind of attention and play that they deserve. I've had a great time
in the game, and I hate doing this, but I hate even more letting
characters sit to one side while I'm mostly focused elsewhere, so I'm
dropping out of the game.

Nadia will be handwavily heading off to Argentina to continue being a spy-extraordinare, and Warren's just going to handwavily get homesick and head back to good ole Stuckeyville.

Seriously, I have had a blast in this game. It was exactly what I needed to pull myself out of the pit I was in when I first joined in January, 2006. Each and everyone of you rocks in so many different ways, and I'll miss y'all.

Thanks so much for everything.

Peace out.

The fact that she'd missed pretty much every single one of her final exams hadn't even begun to sink in, yet. At the moment, Nadia was still stuck on "I'm clean! And not in a big hole!" as she let herself collapse onto her bed and shoved her face into her pillow.

Sheets. Pillows. Blankets. Clean.

. . .

Cat. Claws. Foot.

"Owowowowowowowowowowow!"

Furrball apparently didn't approve of Nadia wandering off for that long without notifying him, first.

[ooc: open, yo]

Nadia didn't notice when the sun went down, tonight.

She didn't notice that Steerpike never came by for his nightly taunt.

She didn't notice these things because she wasn't in the hole, any more. She was in a tiny, cramped, pitch black tunnel that she was slowly and painstakingly digging in a bid for freedom.

As it turned out? Metal artificial limbs made halfway decent digging implements. By the time midnight rolled around, though, she was beginning to wonder if she was screwed. There wasn't enough air in the tunnel, she was exhausted, dehydrated, extremely hungry, filthy, aching . . . she was sure she had some scrapes and cuts that were getting infected. . . . The only thing that kept her digging was inertia. She had a rhythm. Shove the foot into the dirt, scrape it away. Repeat.

Still, she was close to passing out when a sudden flare of light hit her eyes and forced her to close them with a startled gasp.

It took awhile before her eyes adjusted enough for her to be able to see that the light was actually only a dim glow, not a piercing glare. Still, she could feel air moving and see light, and she didn't think she'd ever felt or seen anything better than that in her entire life. She shoved and scraped with renewed energy until the opening was finally enough for her to push herself out of the tunnel and into . . . .

An underground cave system.

Oh for chrissake.

[ooc: establishy, NFB, you get the deal now, yeah?]

Nadia? Yeah, she's still at the bottom of that big hole out on the preserve. She'd slept pretty fitfully throughout the night, often waking up to try and climb her way out again, but it was no use. The dirt of the hole's wall was too soft to support her weight, and the lowest of the tree roots was out of jumping range.

So right now, she's sitting at the bottom, idly throwing rocks and tearing up bits of leaves and imagining all the things she wants to do with Steerpike when she gets her hands on him.

[ooc: establishy, only. NFB, please! Nadia will continue to be stuck in a hole, and people will continue to think she's turned into a degu, until Thursday or thereabouts.]

When Nadia got back to the dorms, she headed right upstairs with every intention of going to bed, but ended up just sitting there with her chin on her fist and staring blankly at the wall.

She could swear she was forgetting something important, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what.

And it was bugging her.

[ooc: The door and the post are open, yo.]

Yeah. So. My internet's not working. Currently I'm piggy-backed onto another network in my apartment building (the only one that's not secured), but I have no idea how long that will last (as long as I can possibly get it to). There's a possibility, according to the cable people, that my internet will magically reappear, say around 5 pm or so, but apparently my modem is "completely offline" and they're going to send someone out to find out why on Monday afternoon, so my weekend availability might just be shot to hell.

So if I vanish suddenly and don't return? That's why. Of course, if I do do that, and you're one of the folks who has my number, I'd probably dearly love and appreciate a phone call or text message to keep me sane. . . .

ETA So it seems there was an outage in my area. The modem is back online, and after a conversation with a very nice service rep, so am I. (there was some power cycling that had to happen). It may not last, but hopefully things are fixed.

Nadia felt a bit like she'd sleepwalked through her class, today. And through most other things. She blamed the bad news she got last night for the seemingly endless stream of nightmares that she'd had every time she'd tried to close her eyes last night and as she stood over the sink splashing cold water on her face.

This was starting to get ridiculous. She straightened slowly and ( looked into the mirror )

She had to get away from people. She couldn't believe that had snuck up on her. But she couldn't let herself hurt anyone. She had to get away. She slammed her way into the room, not really thinking about if she'd closed the door behind her or not and threw herself into the far corner, behind one of the unmade beds, where she curled up on herself, trying to get her breathing under control, and staring at her pale hands.

[ooc: open to those who might have seen her run down the hall. Pale hands and red eyes are entirely in her mind, hallucination courtesy of Barbas-plot. Yay!]

A day without classes meant that Nadia was sitting up on her bed, painting her toenails when her old cellphone suddenly rang.

( cut for one side of a phone call )

[ooc: open after the phone call]

No classes, plus achiness and trauma from having been forced to keep playing her guitar for several hours the day before, meant Nadia slept in.

When she woke up, her hands were still cramping and her arms felt kind of like lead. Her shoulders were so sore that they'd tensed up her neck as well, and she could feel the beginnings of a headache. And let's not even get into how her throat felt.

She stumbled out of bed to go looking for some water, tripped over Furrball, and kind of decided that maybe staying on the floor might not be a bad idea for a bit.

Then Furrball pounced on her feet.

It was one of those days.

[ooc: open, especially to roommate types]

Nadia was stretched out on her bed, flipping through her dream journal. In theory, she was looking for connections between some of the different parts of her dreams. In reality, she was mostly staring vaguely at the pages . . . and, okay, occasionally flipping back to giggle at the drawing of Pip fleeing the morality bot.

It was better than thinking about some of the things that had happened the last time she was in Fandom over the month of March. Nadia wasn't a big fan of her birthday, but she did have a tendency to remember other anniversaries. The bad ones, at the very least.

Furrball was playing with a pair of rather rusted rollerskates, which mostly involved him stepping on them, and going careening around the room, mewling frantically.

[ooc: open, especially to any roommates.]