@ Ome (Stella):  Your arrival is amidst an intense crowd of fascinated first timers and old faces, popular from the little leagues up to the top.  Many of them showering, chattering, nibbling, scrubbing, wrapping limbs or scrapes or breasts, popping painkillers, cupping, cup-checking, retaliating violently for cup-checking, twisting arms, slamming lockers, pissing, prattling, praying, and pumping.  You aren't particularly noticed because, well, you haven't yet met anyone you know; it's such a crowd that everyone's in their own little world or clique, until a familiar lapine with his long ears pinned down and out of the way in a headband looks up and his chocolate brown eyes meet yours.  He smiles; an opponent you'd met in the underground circuit named simply Jazz, known for risking life and limb ridiculously in fights simply “for the jazz,” and an almost even match for even you with his tendency to somersault indiscriminately all over the ring.  He beckons you over, he's wearing nothing but skintight shorts, which keep him from getting snagged on things when he's bounding this way and that.  Wrapping a bruised backhand up tight, he gets to his feet and smiles.<br/><br/><br/>@ KavenBach (Santi):  In moments your legs were curled tight in Tim's stretching tummy, bulging his already loose Velle-style silks out.  His cute nose rests right beneath your naval and he's savoring your scent even as his tongue laps gently at your clitoris, repeatedly, with strokes that only an experienced sort could manage so repeatedly.<br/><br/>“Do you like him?” Shari asks in a whisper.  “He's going to swallow you all up, and you're going to become a part of him – forever and ever.  You'll be a part of us.” She pinches your nipples and massages them vigorously, cupping you with her warm hands as Tim finally reaches your navel, working his way to the breasts, Shari working on holding you down.  “Well?  Ever wonder what it feels like to be a boy?  You'll know soon enough... when Tim's stomach is done with you.”<br/><br/><br/>@ Chirouso (Onyx):  Caleena blanches, however the professor nods.  “We've got a good crew, then.  I'll be by very soon, with a well-packed carriage.” The screen blanks and time passes as you go to pack, and in an hour and a half, the two have arrived downstairs, hauling up empty milk crates to pack odds and ends.  Caleena is very reserved, however, James is quite excited, shuffling through piles of things and tossing in pots and pans at Valance's request.  Within a good half hour the van is packed, with mostly simple mechanical items, cooking devices, mundane, as that is (according to James) all that would work down there... and when everyone is ready, Caleena starts the carriage.  “When we get to within about two miles of the town, we'll have to walk.”  James adds.  “So get everything you need for a few nights and don't forget where we parked...”<br/><br/><br/>@ TaciturnTiger (Jori): The fork and knife are plastic, sad to say, though even those could hurt horribly if applied correctly.  And there is no answer; whatever fields were providing the magical inputs (and this was not like electric power; buildings tended to each hold their own reserve nodes, in addition to entire city blocks that backed up the power in outages; someone had suppressed a very large node to do this...) in the dark, indeed there was a flickering of light, but nothing could be heard nor seen.  If the cell couldn't get communication, what was happening to the rest of the building?  And Carlos was right next door, and unable to do a thing...<br/><br/>Of course, the will-based fields that sealed the doors were also down, leaving nothing but a basic mechanical lock, that nonetheless required a key to open.  And security had outright bailed, save for one overseer pacing outside of the cell doors nervously, jingling the keys... worried.  A muffled voice from Carlos' cell orders him to open the doors; he approaches, ready to comply, and goes to your cell first; but before he can even get the key in the lock, he staggers; freezes; something unseen has him, and with a spray of static sparks, the man crackles like a firework, toppling to the floor, along with the keys in his hand.  Slight shadows illuminate the stairwell from far off, coming closer, a faint light bobbing with them...