Fandom High Dormitories

DEATH is sitting in his room for once, at a desk no less, with a very authentic looking quill and parchment in front of him. Periodically he dips the quill into the nearby ink pot and scribbles a few lines on the paper, only to then cross them out. If he had any musculature to speak of, it is possible his brow would be knit into consternation.

DO YOU THINK, BINKY, THAT A BERET WOULD HELP THE FLOW OF CREATIVITY. IT SEEMS MANY CREATIVE TYPES WEAR BERETS.

Binky snorts slighlty at this from where he stands in the room, behind DEATH, seemingly reading over his shoulder.

((OOC: Door is open and, even if you can't see DEATH, there is still obviously a very large white horse standing in the room.))

DEATH, on the back of Binky, can be seen riding through the dorm rooms, wearing a standard black robe, a purple leather fedora, and a condom necklace on his scythe. He arrives at Room 333 and notices that his new roommate has not yet arrived. If possible for a seven-foot skeleton, he appears quite pleased and, after consulting what appears to be an interior design book from the 1980s, goes about decorating the room in welcome.

He appears to have copious amounts of faux fur in day glow colors, bits of colored springs, and lots of construction paper. He begins constructing a large, friendly looking sun, as seen in his book, with faux fur rays.

THIS SUN WILL SHINE THE RAYS OF MY WELCOME

...

I BELIEVE THAT WAS PROPERLY METAPHORICAL.

Binky stands in the center of the room, watching patiently with a rubber duck on his back. He may stick his nose out the door from time to time, if someone were to pass down the hall.


((OOC: For the new people: DEATH is a seven-foot tall skeleton, who is often seen with Binky, a large, white, and very much alive horse. Normally he'd be wearing black robes, but, well... he discovered fashion last semester. We'll leave it at that. His eyes glow blue and, for obvious reasons, he has no facial features. DEATH cannot be seen by everyone, because it would break brains. Anyone of a magical/supernatural nature can see him, cats can see him... if you're in a trance, delirious from pain, really high or drunk, or just really Strange-In-The-Head (ie. The Tick) you can probably see him. You might just see a tall, skinny, fuzzy looking guy. The more you interact with DEATH, the better you get at seeing him if you are not so inclined. If you can't see DEATH, you just feel the sense of dread that seems to pervade the area around him. Everyone can hear DEATH, even if they can't see him. His words aren't heard by ears, so much as by heads, but that's not too important. Any Questions?))

*DEATH, leaving the clinic and setting aside his research into the life and times of one Bob Fosse, stalks the halls of the dorm. It is the stalk of someone who has done it for a living for both past and future. There is an engulfing, almost professional, sense of dread as DEATH walks through rooms, walls, and, periodically, people. The sparks of his eyes glow brightly and, if such a thing were possible, it would seem that DEATH is brooding.

DEATH, however, does not brood. He simply cannot fall out of practice.*

((OOC: DEATH has things on his mind. Feel free to stop him, if you can see him or are familar with his sense of dread. If he walks through you, its the oddest thing you've ever felt.)

*DEATH has decorated the common room to look like, if possible, a construction paper and elmer's glue version of the Original First Meal, complete with a paper cornicopia on one of the tables and a number of construction paper and feather turkies sitting about the room, looking like they may gobble at any minute.

There is a variety of food around, all uncooked as of yet, including a smallish turkey which is not only trussed with orange string but appears to be wearing a paper pilgrim hat.

DEATH himself is wearing his orange and yellow robes from yesterday, having completed the ensemble with a construction paper and feather turkey hat, perched delicately on top of his skull. He is twirling his scythe, periodically checking his decorations for propriety, and is giving off an aura of anticipatory dread, as though he were waiting for someone in particular.*

*DEATH is in the 3rd floor common room with a collection of lacey, see-through robes and what appears to be, if one were to take the time to look, matching undergarments specially sized for those without flesh. Interestingly, the space where clevage should be is filled with perfectly shaped dead air. He is changing outfits periodically and then examining himself, pausing to scribble notes on a peice of parchment.*

LOVELY... HONEY... DEAR... LOVE... SNOOKUMS... SWEETIE...

*The list of endearments continues, almost mantra-like, as though DEATH were attempting to memorize them. Every 15 minutes or so, the mantra ceases, as DEATH, slipping on a pair of high-heels, tries to strut around the common room, exuding what he hopes is an air of confidence and self-assured style.*

I AM CALM, COOL, COLLECTED. I AM A SELF-ASSURED... ENTITY... OF SUBSTANCE AND EVERY MAN SHOULD WANT ME.

*DEATH stops, now and again, to rifle through a pile of notes and teen fashion magazines.

Those that cannot see DEATH notice only a rubber duck in the corner with what appears to be lacey, red panties on its head and a very comical, but self-assured, sense of dread.*

((OOC: Come help DEATH with his seduction and charm techniques. He needs someone to practice on...))