stand outside your virture;; [open]

[Dominik Kurt]

A greenhouse. The last place you'd expect someone of Dominik's stature to be inside of. He brushed a strand of hair from his eyes as he stood, silently. Dominik didn't normally like plants, but the mood he was in made it to where he almost enjoyed their silent, humid company. He glanced at the roof and felt a brow raise at the sunlight. The sunlight touching this place? Didn't make much sense did it. Dominik's hand reached out and he brushed the pedal of the flower closest to him. He was taking his lunch break in this place. Far from the others that he worked with. He was only a recent addition to the staff anyways, so he highly doubted that anyone would miss him. Dark orbs turned away from the flowers as he began moving through the green house. Hands brushing petals and soil. He was off in a far away land in his mind. Reliving episodes he really didn't want to relive. He could feel his body tensing with each memory. Irritation written clearly on his features. He felt his hand began clenching as he continued to drift through memories.

The Researcher was dressed comfortably buy professionally as always. His lab coat had been discarded on a lone chair. His torso was clad in a form fitting black dress shirt, long-sleeved, with gold cufflinks that had giant D's on them. His legs had on fitted black slacks, brushing against matching polished dress shoes. No real color seemed to be on his outfit. The lab coat was the only thing setting off the black. Now he just seemed to blend in to the shadows. His chocolate brown hair was slicked back for the most part, except pieces seemed to enjoy the humid atmosphere of the green house thusly they kept brushing his eyelashes. His face was clean shaven today, though it would be a lie to say he was always clean shaven, and gave off a fairly youthful look still. His nails had been clipped short and square. Clean and neat. Professional. Dominik seriously needed to lighten up with his wardrobe. But alas, he was too much a stickler to dress outrageously in public. Actually he didn't own any outrageous outfits.

Dominik hadn't realized how much he had been clenching the plant until it was completely crushed in his hand and fell to the floor. He looked down at the demolished flower and a slow smirk appeared on his features. After about twenty seconds of pulling he had completely demolished the flowers in front of him. Stepping back he tilted his head to the side before reaching for the stark white lab coat. He rubbed his hands clean on it, destroying the evidence as best he could before depositing the lab coat in a small trash can near the door. He walked casually back over to the flowers, head tilted, and hair falling back in to his face as he studied his work. He turned away finally and leaned against the table they had been sitting on. Brown eyes glancing around in the dimming green house as the sun was slowly being blocked by the clouds. He was slowly sinking in to the shadows, not deeply though as you could still see him. But it would probably be pretty creepy to suddenly noticing him leaning there. Not that he would mind if he freaked you out.

[Chris Dyaz]

For Your Consideration
.the faster we go
Pawns: Dom & Chris
.you are an asshole
Status: Open
.king of the castle
Current Count: 1575 words
.i am the meager
Clothing: Click
.follow the leader
Soundtrack: Breaking Benjamin – No Games

Dr. Dyaz was late leaving, yet again. The sun was quickly setting outside of her self-imposed prison of an office and she sighed. It wasn’t a sigh of contempt or boredom, just the sound of air escaping her body as Chris acknowledged that she should be disappointed in another day gone by. The woman wasn’t disappointed at the fact that she had spent so much time being “married to career,” today, but it was nice to pretend to be normal for just a moment. She gathered a set of papers, pleased with what was typed on them in black and white in terms that many wouldn’t understand. Their superiors had suggested a new form of treatment for the students with overactive conditions by attempting to administer neurotoxins in small doses to them. It was thought that these toxins would help to effectively ‘numb’ the same center of the brain that caused the obsessive dream state that Chris was absolutely entranced with. This project made her heart beat a little faster; her cheeks flushed as if she had just been caught with a secret lover. The blue eyed researcher smiled, and neatly slipped the manila folder into a leather satchel and exited her office.

Her seashell pink nails drug across the light switch as she turned the lights off in her small, but comfortably sized office. Chris felt the door click locked behind her and felt secure, knowing that her office could only be accessed with her ID card and fingerprint identification. Unless someone cut off her right index finger after robbing her, they wouldn’t be getting in. The hospital hallways were cold, as always, and darkening with the fading daylight. It was an eerie feeling and it should have given the woman the creeps but she it didn’t bother her, she was at home in the sterile, unearthly environment. The heels of the brown suede boots she was wearing clicked behind her, echoing off of the long hallway until she researched the stairs. The researcher had worn her long, auburn hair naturally today and it flowed over her shoulders a little messily without the aid of bobby pins or clips, bouncing with each step as she descended.

The woman pulled a soft, beige sweater on to one of her arms as she exited the hospital, the night air chilling her just a bit. Perhaps she was simply cold natured, but it seemed as if she was always pulling on another layer of clothing. It didn’t bother her, though, things never truly bothered Dyaz. She left her overcoat draped over her arm as she walked the silent courtyard, heading toward the parking lot where she had stationed her silver sports car, a graduation gift from her overly indulgent parents. It was a gorgeous foreign vehicle, all curves and dark gray leather on the interior, but Chris couldn’t be bothered to remember the model or even the maker of the expensive two-seater.

Suddenly remembering something, the slim woman stopped, causing the dangling earrings at her earlobes to graze her cheeks a bit violently. She was at the mouth of the parking lot and could see her car glinting under the lamppost it was stationed under. The woman almost just left, almost justified that she could simply do it tomorrow, but her dogged sense of determination stopped her and turned her around, though she would have preferred just to drive home, pushing the six speed transmission far above the speed limit.

Chris’ body turned direction and moved lithely back toward the hospital, her heels clicking a bit more ferociously as she approached the greenhouse. She was in a hurry now, tempted by the idea of speeding home to a long bath and being nude in the safety of her apartment, sanitized and bare on her expensive linens. She barely noticed the man as she entered the open door of the greenhouse, her mind stopping only for a moment to wonder why, precisely, it was open.

Petals lined the ground as if a lover had planed a daring tryst in the middle of the glass building. The warmth of the sun had warmed the building, causing the usually cold woman to almost sweat under her sweater and slightly revealing top. Her cold eyes surveyed the destruction and a feeling almost like anger welled in her throat, but quickly passed. These plants had been hybridized strains, grown from seeds bombarded with neurotoxins extracted from the Aesculus hippocastanum, a tree more commonly called the horse chestnut tree. The chance of someone dying from their skin coming in contact with broken petals was extremely rare, unless they were allergic to bee or wasp stings, and even then it would probably require actual ingestion to hurt someone.

The doctor shook her head, almost unconsciously as she pulled a bound notebook from her satchel and began to take notes. They would have to regrow the plants to obtain the medicinal pollen they were thinking of using in a trial and it would set their research back a bit. It wasn’t a large blow, just a minor annoyance to Chris – surely it was destruction one of those damnable children had done as they left the hospital after a routine checkup. It wasn’t until she had completed a full write up that he eyes drifted to the shadow of a man. She would have usually just turned, left with her own assumptions, and returned home to consider the implications of regrowing the plants. But, there was a chance that the unprecedented ‘attack’ on the foliage indicated that one of the students had an increased tendency toward violence, something the researchers had been informed that they should be looking for in any of their little lab rats.

The redhead spoke in a musical voice, accented with a little bit of voluptuousness, though she would never have known it. She posed a question, tilting her head slightly at the man leaning against the table as she spoke.

“Did you see which of the damned little monsters made this mess?”