setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
rules
PLAYBYS: Sims from the games Sims 2, 3 and 4 are used to visually represent player’s original characters (no characters from within the franchise are allowed). But, you do not need these games to join and roleplay! If you wish, you can post a thread in our out of character / general forum and list as many physical details about your character as you wish. The members of Index will happily try and make a character for you, and you can choose which one you feel best fits your vision.

AVATARS: Avatars should display your characters face clearly and should be at least 200 pixels tall, and 200 pixels wide.

THREADING & POSTING: When threading with multiple characters, it is important that you post only when it is your turn. This can be acheived by taking note of who has posted before you, and remember you are to always post after them. If you were the thread starter, then it is your turn after the final person has joined your thread.

When creating a thread you are required to place a tag before the title. Here are a list of types of thread you can create and how to tag each one:

[Open] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, with no limit on the number of characters.
[Open - #] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, but there is a limit on the number of characters who can join. Replace the # with how many extra characters you will allow to join your thread.
[Private] Only specific characters can join your thread.
[Closed] This tag should be used for threads that only involve your character.

ACTIVITY: To keep threads moving, people are encouraged to post within three days when it is their turn. If you do not post within three days, and you have not asked people to wait for you, it is possible you will be skipped. Keep in mind this is just a suggestion. While we'd love for everyone to be active every day, we understand that real life and other hobbies are just as important, if not more. We want you to be active because you want to be, not because a rule is telling you to be.

MATURITY RATING: Public threads should all be PG. If roleplayers above the age of 18 wish to post content that could be could be considered graphic then it should be hidden from view using the [hide] [/hide] code, which will enable only those in the threads and administrators to view the content.


 [Closed] Manageable

[Closed] Manageable

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[Closed] Manageable

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Sun Nov 30, 2014 8:27 pm

Waking up was just as fucking horrible as the whole process of going to sleep. Going to bed was shit because it was the first time you kinda had to stop and assess shit, like that twinge in your stomach that when you finally acknowledged turned out to be a fucking reopened wound when you went to change the shittin’ bandage. When you woke up it was the same thing, but worse. Aches and pain you’d somehow managed to forget, to build up a goddamn block against, came rushing back in around the same time as consciousness. The sleeping tablets helped a whole fuckload, which was surprising considering I gotten them off some student who lived nearby. Fuck, I’d been convinced they were duds, pretty much the only fucking reason I’d intimidated the guys into giving me a months’ worth ‘free sample’. But they worked and I’d stopped having dreams about being in fucking pain too. Now they’d been bad, but still not as fucked up as the dreams from the night I’d been drugged. Waking up after that shit had been the fucking worst, like it was the first time I got to remember that I was physically fucked and basically useless.
 
But, I could tell there was an improvement. A really fucking small, inconsequential, practically non-fucking-existent but it was still there. Waking up in pain was still a bitch, but after almost a week it was a bitch I’d started to get used to. I groaned, not wanting to open my eyes and face another fucking day. But I still did. I winced, closing my eyes against a dim shaft of light that filtered in through a gap in the drapes, grabbing a pillow and dragging it over my face. I rolled on to my back, taking a few deep breaths, like I was building up fucking courage or some shit. I tested my arm, the injured one, a slow fucking process if there ever was one. I flexed my fingers first, which was fine and only sent a couple of slivers of discomfort up my arm. Rotating my wrist was harder, a lot harder. I grinded my jaw as there was a sharp, wrenching sensation that traveled all the way up my forearm to my bicep, making the muscle clench, tautening and becoming rock hard for a moment before relaxing again. I exhaled, not even trying to move my elbow or my fucking shoulder. I wasn’t a fucking masochist that enjoyed pain and I knew that all I’d get for my efforts. It was almost a goddamn miracle but I was actually taking what Orazio had said seriously. There was no way I was fucking risking losing the use of my arm.
 
But I really fucking hated feeling like this, I really did. I felt...I felt a whole load of shit I wasn’t used to feeling. I’d fallen over on the first day, just from trying to put of a fucking bra. Stupid fucking things, I hadn’t worn one since and as far as I was concerned my life was all the fucking better for it. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I’d been lucky to fall on my right side, the uninjured one. What would’ve happened if it had been the other? Would that have done enough damage to make all of this permanent? What the fuck would I do if I ended up as some sort of useless cripple. How the fuck would I live with myself. The only honest answer I could come up with to that was... that I wouldn’t- couldn’t live like that.
 
Fuck! I yelled, as I sat up and grabbed the pillow from my face and throwing it across the room, my useless piece of shit arm pressed up against my chest. I yanked the blanket off and stood up, shivering for a moment as cold air met the warmth of my bare skin. What? Was I supposed to waste effort putting something on to wear to bed? Right, no that wasn’t happening. It was hard enough getting shit off. I stretched as best as I could, trying to remember the crap I was supposed to do today. The sleeping pills had a side-effect, which seemed to be fucking up my short-term memory. Whatever, before I did anything I’d still have to get dressed, but the idea of spending a half hour struggling into clothing one-handed wasn’t exactly appealing. With a groan I sat back down on the edge of the bed, covering my face with one hand and just fucking sighing. Maybe the doc had been right, maybe Onyx had been right and trying to do this shit alone was fucking stupid.
 
The instant I found myself thinking that I stood up, feeling all sorts of pissed off. I barged over to the bathroom, pulling aside the curtain that divided the two rooms and yanking it closed behind me. If they could be right then there was every fucking reason to think I could be too. Shit, I could at least fucking try to do this crap on my own first. I sat on the edge of the bath, knowing I wasn’t up for standing long enough to take a shower. While the taps ran I pulled off the bandages I’d managed to get on a couple of days ago. It’s had been another couple of hours wasted, and it looked messy as fuck, but at least I’d gotten it done. If I could get past the worst of this by myself then maybe I wouldn’t actually need someone else at all. Shit, it was worth a shot. I headed back to my room as the bath filled, grabbing shit like underwear, sweats and the baggiest tee I could find. Fuck, if I’d been a chick into appearance over comfort then I’d been in even deeper shit right now.
 
When the bath had filled I pulled off the last couple of bandage patches that covered the slashes on my torso. The fucker had even managed to get me on my left hip bone, the cut slicing through the tattoo I had there. Some wounds were healing better than others, which I just put down to the amount of poison they’d been fucked up with. I shut off the taps, taking a breath because I was honestly being kinda a pussy about what I was going to do next. There was a bottle of peroxide on the side of the bath and I grabbed it, lip curling in fucking anticipation- and not the good fucking kind either. I grabbed the clean rag beside it, pouring some on to the material, nose flare from the sting of the smell. I started at my neck, dabbing at various wounds, trying to keep it on the edges but it was fucking impossible. The stinging wasn’t the problem, since the pain was manageable. Neither was the twitching from the sting or the slight spasms of my muscles. It was the fucking fact that it was pain added to more pain added to more fucking goddamn pain- that was what was tipping me over the edge towards rage. My hands started shaking and I bit my lip, forgetting for a second how fucked up that was too. How the fuck was I supposed to do fucking anything like this? How the fuck did people even live needing help with things like this?
 
Fuck it. The hardest part was trying to actually reach my back with only one fucking arm in use. I twisted and turned and aggravated the damaged muscles to a point where I was practically fucking seeing red. I stood up, throwing the stupid fucking rag at the fucking wall and just pouring the fucking bottle over my back, clenching my jaw hard at the feeling that followed. A yell built in my throat but I let it go no fucking further, just gripped the edge of the bath until my muscles felt like I could move them again. I raised a shaking leg, still leaning forward over the edge, and putting it in the water. It was hot, probably hotter than it needed to be but I was too tired to care. Too tired even though I’d just fucking woken up.
 
Suddenly keeping myself upright just felt too fucking hard and I let myself fall over the edge of the bath, water rising wildly and splashing over the side of the tub. I shivered despite the warmth, but gradually it started to make a difference. My muscles relaxed as the scent of sweet leaf and sage took over my senses. I let myself get lost in, totally and utterly letting it becoming my only focus. The thoughts about how this had happened, the self doubt and fucking loathing. The fact that for the first time in fucking years I found myself feeling like I wasn’t one hundred percent clear on what I should. The fact that it was no one’s fault but my own and I seem incapable handling the fucking consequences. Each and every thought I had since that night...
 

... I let it all just slip away, one by fucking one, and staying in that tub until the water was long past cold.

#Closed #Solo

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