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peckenpaugh2019-11-07 11:59 am
peckishpeople) wrote in peckenpaugh2019-11-07 11:59 am
Entry tags:
In the computer lab today...
There’s no lecture today, no immediate calamity from which Mr. Qualls needs to be rescued, and if Lionel checked his star charts, he’d see today is a great day for touching base with your loved ones. Yes, today is the day to ask Mr. Qualls if he has a brother. What could possibly go wrong?
The computer lab is mostly empty, save for a few students studying or browsing the web in the back of the room, when Lionel approaches his ghostly instructor with his question. “Do you have a brother?” is simple enough, but Mr. Qualls doesn’t have an immediate answer. He thinks, and thinks, and the more he thinks the harder his pale blue face screws up.
“Brother?” he asks. “Brothers. Brothers, brothers.” Mr. Qualls stares up at the buzzing fluorescent lights. “There were brothers!”
Realization, recollection, dawns on his features. He opens his mouth to say more, and then stops. Mr. Qualls makes a strange, strained noise and then begins to jitter. “My—” The muggle studies teacher seems to be malfunctioning, again, his very form tearing and hitching. Spliced between trying to speak and, somehow, seeming to be in excruciating pain. Color fills his form in flashes, vibrant and dull, living and dead.
The computer monitors at the front of the room begin to smoke. The lights overhead flicker. Mr. Qualls looks at his TA. Past his TA.
“Lionel?” He says, and there’s a great flash as the lights above blow and the power goes out. For a second, everything is silent and dark. No glitching instructor, no glow from computer monitors. The room fills with the smell of burning plastic.
Then Mr. Qualls blinks, shakes his head, and most of the overhead lights and back rows of computers come back on. “Brother? Hm? No. Always wanted one, but my parents decided I was enough, I guess. Oh! James, it looks like those damn Windows updates have mucked up the computers again. Could you have a look?”
Mr. Qualls returns to his desk as though nothing is wrong. Beneath the spot where he’d been floating, right in the middle of the floor, Lionel finds a shiny black stone, shaped like a cicada’s shell.
For the rest of the day, Peckenpaugh’s already limited internet goes down. It should be back up tomorrow, though! The front row of computers — four PCs — appear to have been bricked by an electrical surge and will need to be replaced.
UP TO EIGHT STUDENTS may have been present in the computer lab, to witness this event. One per player max. The power throughout the old victorian flickered and the acrid smell from the burnt out computers filled the building, so students anywhere else in the library would've noticed quickly, too.
The computer lab is mostly empty, save for a few students studying or browsing the web in the back of the room, when Lionel approaches his ghostly instructor with his question. “Do you have a brother?” is simple enough, but Mr. Qualls doesn’t have an immediate answer. He thinks, and thinks, and the more he thinks the harder his pale blue face screws up.
“Brother?” he asks. “Brothers. Brothers, brothers.” Mr. Qualls stares up at the buzzing fluorescent lights. “There were brothers!”
Realization, recollection, dawns on his features. He opens his mouth to say more, and then stops. Mr. Qualls makes a strange, strained noise and then begins to jitter. “My—” The muggle studies teacher seems to be malfunctioning, again, his very form tearing and hitching. Spliced between trying to speak and, somehow, seeming to be in excruciating pain. Color fills his form in flashes, vibrant and dull, living and dead.
The computer monitors at the front of the room begin to smoke. The lights overhead flicker. Mr. Qualls looks at his TA. Past his TA.
“Lionel?” He says, and there’s a great flash as the lights above blow and the power goes out. For a second, everything is silent and dark. No glitching instructor, no glow from computer monitors. The room fills with the smell of burning plastic.
Then Mr. Qualls blinks, shakes his head, and most of the overhead lights and back rows of computers come back on. “Brother? Hm? No. Always wanted one, but my parents decided I was enough, I guess. Oh! James, it looks like those damn Windows updates have mucked up the computers again. Could you have a look?”
Mr. Qualls returns to his desk as though nothing is wrong. Beneath the spot where he’d been floating, right in the middle of the floor, Lionel finds a shiny black stone, shaped like a cicada’s shell.
For the rest of the day, Peckenpaugh’s already limited internet goes down. It should be back up tomorrow, though! The front row of computers — four PCs — appear to have been bricked by an electrical surge and will need to be replaced.
UP TO EIGHT STUDENTS may have been present in the computer lab, to witness this event. One per player max. The power throughout the old victorian flickered and the acrid smell from the burnt out computers filled the building, so students anywhere else in the library would've noticed quickly, too.
REACTIONS
REACTIONS: Lionel Lovelace
Seeing as everyone seems to be fine, Lionel takes this opportunity to approach Mr. Qualls. He's been meaning to ask about the photo Xenia uncovered. The one of a younger Mr. Qualls with a man who resembles him. "Do you have a brother?" he asks. You'd think it'd be easy to answer. It's a yes or no question after all. Yet Qualls seems stumped.
Lionel worries he maybe didn't annunciate clearly enough. Perhaps Qualls heard 'another' or 'a buzzer' or 'a buffer'. But then his teacher repeats 'brother' a couple of times and it's clear that it's not the word that's stumped him, it's his ability to answer the question. Is the answer lost? Repressed? Deleted? Seeing the strain on his teacher's face, Lionel is about to tell him not to worry. It doesn't matter. They can talk about something else.
For before Lionel can speak, Qualls is glitching out. His form tearing. Lionel lets out a yelp, lost under the sound of Quall's own pain. "No! No!" Lionel cries. His hands quickly find the distorting edges of his teacher, and he tries to hold his form in place. A futile but instinctive action. "Stop stop stop stop," he pleads quietly, "I'm so sorry."
Helpless, Lionel blows in Qualls' ear like a Nintendo cartridge and frantically whispers, "Control alt delete" over and over again. It has, predictably, no effect. It's Qualls who saves himself this time. "Lionel?" he asks and the lights flash and the power goes out. In the dark, Lionel's voice comes back cautiously. "Yes. Lionel." It's the first time Qualls has gotten his name right before.
The power comes back, Qualls returns to normal, and Lionel remains motionless as Qualls gives an entirely calm (and almost certainly incorrect) answer about not having a brother. When the teacher floats back to his desk, Lionel bends and picks up the cicada shell. He considers asking Qualls if he dropped it, but thinks better of it. No more questions for his teacher today. He wordlessly places it on his own desk and sets about examining the computers. Many will have to be replaced.
Later, Lionel sits at his desk and opens a notebook. In his own coded language, he takes detailed notes on the day. Everything he can remember of Qualls' answer, how his ghostly body distorted, observations of this small black stone. And in the top right corner of the page, under the coded phrase "Days Without A Qualls Incident" he erases the number two and writes: 0.
OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!
Re: OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!
senile dadfragile mentor! I don’t know if he’s more concerned by what happened to the computer lab or the fact that Qualls actually got Lionel’s name right for once. I’ll be back after I’ve had some coffee to write a proper reaction.Re: OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!
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Val was in the middle of updating her Instagram with photos of perfectly arranged crystals in a pentagram. :(
Re: OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!
Re: OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!
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I'd love to say that Fred was witness to this incident??
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Re: OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!
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Dying
I love stressing children out
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[...] Right?
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Re: OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!