A taste of the light
Mar 27, 2014 19:29:31 GMT -5
Post by Cassandra Masson Descoteaux on Mar 27, 2014 19:29:31 GMT -5
The exterior of the dormitories was somewhat plain, which was a motif that carried through the doors and in to the narrow hallway inside; where numerous doors with assorted numbers dotted the route. The floor was linoleum and shined beneath the manufactured lights, cast in a baleful yellow. A sickly yellow. It was one of many buildings, but this was the oldest; filled in the corners with dust and at times, webs. There was a cleaning crew that swept through the place mid-week, but they always left a corner of filth. A petri-dish of wonderful mould and sludge that sat unattended. The far end of the hallway, where the mound often sat, was rarely frequented. The woman who was allotted that room - number four-eight-six, to be precise - was rarely at home. If such a place could be called a home.
Keys rattled. An eerie sound with silence cushioning it from all sides; muffled by a thin veneer of cloth thanks to the cotton of her pocket. The door to dormitory four-eight-six creaked open, creaked shut, and then there was the sliding of plastic within the electronic lock. On the outside one wouldn't imagine this place to be high-tech, save for that. There was a fake keyhole above the doorknob; the woman, reaching in to her rattling pocket, withdrew a keychain and slid one of the shining silver pieces in to the hole. The deadbolt made a clunk. When she turned around, her plump figure cut a stark silhouette of white against the off-yellow of the walls; she sighed sharply, and began to walk.
Barely a few steps later, the silence was broken. A shrill series of beeps bounced off of the walls and almost immediately, the woman's thick fingers fidgeted in an opposite pocket. When withdrawn, the communication device was swiftly silenced.
"This is Professor Descoteaux-" She alerted the person on the other end; all business, sharp and lancing in her tone. The subtle Kalosian lilt of her surname made the corner of her lip twitch, but this was imperceptible to the fellow on the phone.
"Yes." The shrew-like woman quipped.
"What? No. That wasn't on the docket today. We were going to - Oh," The woman huffed in to the object and her face crunched in to a scowl; meanwhile, she began to stalk down the hall towards the doorway of the complex. "You know what? I'll be there soon. Just don't touch anything. No, no, I was only - alright,"
Click.
The phone popped in to her pocket as she passed towards the entrance, and the doors swooshed on open in her presence. The sunlight gleamed down through the glass panes, catching in her dark eyes and heating them. Cassandra squinted and turned - slamming in to something, or someone, which she hadn't been aware of in those first few moments of exposure.