Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2017 19:56:21 GMT
[googlefont="righteous"]
I can't STAND THIS SILENCE
SO WHY DON'T WE MAKE SOME NOISE
When we're all just ghosts - And the madness overtakes us
Maxwell stood in front of a door on the top floor of the gryphon dorms. He had been given directions here from the front desk along with other information, all of which was written on the paper in his hand. Aside him were both his suitcases, his backpack on his back, and a guitar hard case.
This was hopefully the right room. Max looked left and right down the hall. In his hand was the paper with the number of the dorm he stood in front of scrawled alongside some other notes. He glanced around again, at the empty hall, wondering if it usually this quiet. 'Hm. Not many rooms.' He thought to himself. Flicking his wrist, Max sent his Id from his shirt pocket to the doors reader, and back. Nudging the door open with his shoulder, Max took in his new home for the foreseeable future. The dorm room was good enough. It had the necessary amenities, bathroom, bed, desk, laundry. The kitchenette would serve Max's needs well, although there might need to be an addition of a second fridge. The current one might not be able to hold enough to sustain Max's extra needs. Max wheeled in both of his luggage bags, and tossed his backpack onto the bed. He left the case of his acoustic in the doorway, propping it open for the time being.
Max began to peruse around his dorm room, occasionally stopping and closing his eyes or leaning this way and that, feeling in the walls and such. The room was big enough that if Maxwell stood in the center, he could just barely feel from end to end. To kick off his unpacking, Maxwell placed a Hot Pocket into the microwave, and plugged in a cheap portable speaker to his phone. Clothes and personal belongings began to float themselves in twos and threes to there new places, as adagio in D minor and the smell of microwaveable food filled the air. "Home sweet home" he said to no one in particular.
The Hot Pocket finished a moment or so later, not long before the song finished. A slightly different version of the same score played again, adapted for a different movie. Maxwell began to manually unpack, taking occasional bites of the piping hot snack rather than letting it cool. He might have muttered a few curses after burning his tongue one or two times. He was nearly done with his first bag when he noticed sounds coming from the hall. Sliding the Hot Pocket into his shirt pocket, Maxwell approached the door to investigate.
This was hopefully the right room. Max looked left and right down the hall. In his hand was the paper with the number of the dorm he stood in front of scrawled alongside some other notes. He glanced around again, at the empty hall, wondering if it usually this quiet. 'Hm. Not many rooms.' He thought to himself. Flicking his wrist, Max sent his Id from his shirt pocket to the doors reader, and back. Nudging the door open with his shoulder, Max took in his new home for the foreseeable future. The dorm room was good enough. It had the necessary amenities, bathroom, bed, desk, laundry. The kitchenette would serve Max's needs well, although there might need to be an addition of a second fridge. The current one might not be able to hold enough to sustain Max's extra needs. Max wheeled in both of his luggage bags, and tossed his backpack onto the bed. He left the case of his acoustic in the doorway, propping it open for the time being.
Max began to peruse around his dorm room, occasionally stopping and closing his eyes or leaning this way and that, feeling in the walls and such. The room was big enough that if Maxwell stood in the center, he could just barely feel from end to end. To kick off his unpacking, Maxwell placed a Hot Pocket into the microwave, and plugged in a cheap portable speaker to his phone. Clothes and personal belongings began to float themselves in twos and threes to there new places, as adagio in D minor and the smell of microwaveable food filled the air. "Home sweet home" he said to no one in particular.
The Hot Pocket finished a moment or so later, not long before the song finished. A slightly different version of the same score played again, adapted for a different movie. Maxwell began to manually unpack, taking occasional bites of the piping hot snack rather than letting it cool. He might have muttered a few curses after burning his tongue one or two times. He was nearly done with his first bag when he noticed sounds coming from the hall. Sliding the Hot Pocket into his shirt pocket, Maxwell approached the door to investigate.
Maxwell has arrived