You awaken slowly. An ominous red light cats long shadows throughout the room. The walls are lined with cabinets and bins, each carefully labeled in looping handwriting. Bandages in a flat basket here. Needles in a translucent blue bin over on that shelf. Scalpel blades and bodies in this cabinet. A bucket sits in the corner next to a desk with neat piles of paper stacked on it. You don’t see any way to get in - or out - of the room. Your attention turns to yourself. Thick metal chains anchor your ankles to the floor and more stretch down from the ceiling, suspending your arms above your head, which ache horribly. Your feet brush against something and you look down to see a drain beneath them. A door clicks open and shut behind you and you try to turn to see who - or what- it is but the chains restrict your movement. The entity walks behind you, their shoes clicking against the floor. They seem to sort through the papers for a few moments before getting something from a cabinet if the thump of wood opening and closing is anything to go by. A hand trails against your back and side and you flinch away. The hand moves to your face, trailing down until they're cupping it in their hand. The person agonizingly comes into view and wait - they look normal. Their face is sharp and angular. Their hair is shaved on one side and trails down their shoulder in a braid. The only odd thing is their hight. They must have a few feet on you and you definetly wouldn’t condiser yourself short. That and their eyes. Ordinary brown but sparking with deeper color and frightningly piercing, like they’re looking into your soul. “Aren’t you cute,” they purr, mouth quirking as they look down at you and that’s when you realize that they definitely have fangs, glinting in the red light. “You may call me Absinthe.” “Who are you?” you spit out, trying to keep your voice from wavering. Absinthe laughs, sending a shiver through your bones. “That isn’t important pet. Welcome back my darlings.” You realize they’re not talking to you anymore. Twin pairs of footsteps walk out from behind you. One belongs to a (ensert description of co-leader #1). They smile down at you but there’s no warmth in it. “These are my colleagues, (co-leader #1 and ). They appreciate the fine art as much as i do.” Absinthe gestures at the two newcomers. “They’re a lot more pathetic than i expected,” (co-leader ) snorts. They’re (insert description of co-leader ). “Don’t worry, i’m sure they’ll be great fun,” Absinthe promises. You take a deep breath. “What ‘fine art’? And what will i be ‘great fun’ for?’’ The three people in front of you glance at each other before (co-leader and ) answering in unison. “Whump.”
Welcome to the whump cabin! 480 words
