#verse:ashes

@daedaluscried

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

It stung... It stung so bad as he pulled himself from the wreckage. The collapse had singed his skin, burned his ‘clothes’, left patches of bloody red that trickled ooze that stained his cloak. Exhaling smoke from his lungs as he pulled himself through. Milky blue eyes stung with tears for which he didn’t need to cry, flushing his eyes out of the thick miasma of smoke. The flames licked at the fuel beneath his feet before grazing up his legs. He fled, he hid, he ran from them for he feared captivity. As he hid away in the darkness of the city, he managed to avoid detection in his wounded state. Those lying bastard, those cruel and enigmatic researchers that stared at him as if he were a monster when all he was trying to do was heal them, he was just trying to make things right! Sure his cure wasn’t perfect but the disease is a much worse alternative.

In the remnants of an abandoned house he hid, far too derelict for any homeless person to seek shelter in, but far from completely destroyed. There was a sign warning demolition in the coming month, but by that point SCP-049 was sure he’d be on the road again. He couldn’t sit still for that long, not when he knows there is so much more he has to do, so many he has to cure. The February winds felt like nails across his burns, but he made due for it also felt so nice, so calming as it brushed up against the frail skin that was exposed beneath the clothes that were attached to him. Soon enough the wheezing subsided and the burns began to heal, he was back on the move again. With the cold winter beginning to slip away with the coming of March’s spring, it seemed that things were turning up finally. He had evaded capture, but was still hiding under the radar.

It was only a matter of time before someone found him. He wasn’t too pleased being disturbed from where he slept upon the floor of an abandoned house far from that first one he inhabited. This one a little better in condition but still too far gone for anyone to really fix It’d be cheaper and easier to just demolish the thing. His milky blue eyes slipped open, the sense of someone there caused him to pull himself from the ground, a dull ache as he did so. The Plague Doctor looked to the stranger with a harsh gaze; and yet beneath that cold look there was a thick sense of curiosity. “Hello...” He greeted quietly, his voice still somewhat raspy from the smoke, and yet he still wasn’t timid despite his quiet tone of voice. He was, if anything, intimidating especially when he rose to his feet, standing at six feet and two inches.

“What can I help you with?”

@doctorharleymd

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

The cold February air clawed at the patches of exposed red skin, it stung and ripped through him with such ferocity that he wasn’t sure what he was doing. He stumbled through the city that surrounded him, the tall structures that peered down at his person, the Foundation didn’t know that he was still alive, they didn’t know where he was, they didn’t realize that he had disappeared into the city that was near the site for which he was contained within before it met it’s untimely fate. He was never one for cities, never enjoyed them, perhaps that is why he fled to this place, in order to hide from them for they would never check such a cramped location.

The news broadcast filtered through his ears from where he eventually settled. He breathed out the smoke in his lungs, it burned his throat but it was a relief to take in the cold air. They announced all the details of the destruction of the site for which he was stored within. Site 19 was gone now, ash in the wind now, carried through the darkness and now mere whispers as the flames died away. He wondered how many of his comrades had died in the flames, how many of them were hiding just like him, how many were captured and sedated. He would never know as he let out a thick and heavy breath. Milky blue eyes filled with tears as they cleared themselves of the smoke.

As the night stretched on, the city’s sound died away, the people disappeared into the interior of their homes, save for the few who didn’t have any. Store lights flickered off into oblivion, sounds of television and music died away, everything was going to sleep. He rose to his feet, feeling his skin stick to the wall that he was leaning against and rip off, blood oozed and dripped down his flesh and the clothes that were attached to his body, they did little to help him maneuver at this point. Limping in torn clothing, dragging his feet across the ground, attempting just to remain standing. It hurt, it stung, especially as droplets of rain began to hit his throbbing flesh.

He didn’t see another person for a long time, limping on like that, but when he did he was surprised to find that she was so clean... So pure... Almost completely immune to the pestilence... They made eye contact for a moment, just a few feet away from her, he stumbled closer before he felt his body grow so heavy and sick that he crumbled. His knees hit the ground with a shock which jolted his body, holding his side he doubled over, milky blue eyes stared at the ground as smoke filled tears poured from his eyes. He wouldn’t die from this, he knew he wouldn’t, his worse fear was being captured again.

“Please... Help me...” His voice was raspy, smoke filled, but quiet-- he was so quiet and timid in the way he talked even when he was healthy. He was never truly harsh with his words unless he was angry, it was almost difficult not to be friendly to him... He acted almost like a child, trying to help everyone, but because of his work he can’t ever get it correct! He can’t ever heal someone without killing them first! He tried to look up to her, but found that the burns upon his neck weren’t going to allow him, his body rocked for a bit before he felt himself fall onto his side-- he lay there, on the sidewalk, in a puddle of water which both stung and cooled, looking absolutely pathetic.

All the while, the cool February air began to blow past, catching on the buildings and screeching it’s cruelty out to the world. Damnation and hatred, that’s what mother nature was proclaiming in the crying wind which carried the coming rain upon it. Or... was it rain? It was at first, but little flakes of white seemed to depict otherwise. Perhaps it was snow that was coming instead.

@iinevitable

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

How long ago was that? Judging by the June breeze that rippled through this world, it would seem that was far back months ago in February. Such a long time ago that was– with the winter vanishing into the past, the snow melting to be replaced. Tall grasses that reached up to the sky, dancing in the wind, with flowers that caught gusts and bowed to the breath of the atmosphere. How long ago was it since he had seen another person in a lab coat? How long ago was it since he was trapped in white walls? How long ago was it since he felt those chains that squeezed the air out of his throat, that made his shoulders pop behind his back, that twisted his wrist– how long ago?

The bark of the tree that supported him felt so firm and gentle, it caught the ‘clothing’ that donned his body, but for the most part he was alright. The light for which shined down through the branches of the trees that shaded him from the bright sun, it provided the perfect lighting for him to write in his journal. The yellowing pages matched with the ink of a pen he had found in an alley way a long time ago, it all worked to sustain his notes and his research, things he had discovered and hypothesis he must test when he recovered completely from his injuries. The burns that covered his body back then were now healing nicely and were being replaced by skin, which was then covered by the clothing that grows out of his body.

The sound of a branch cracking just out of sight made him jump and he almost drew a line on the page, thankfully he did not. Milky blue eyes looked back and peeked out from his side of the tree, making contact with the form that stood just a ways off staring at him. Oh he did not like this, for some reason he detected something he wasn’t all too fond of. There was something wrong here, perhaps this was an unfortunate turn of events, or perhaps it was because of the dull throb in his skull, or maybe even because he was just paranoid. Whatever the reason for his suspicion, he was not pleased to see this stranger. Pulling himself from the ground with a wince, he got to his feet.

“What can I help you with?”

@dolbyscube

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

How long ago was that? Judging by the June breeze that rippled through this world, it would seem that was far back months ago in February. Such a long time ago that was– with the winter vanishing into the past, the snow melting to be replaced. Tall grasses that reached up to the sky, dancing in the wind, with flowers that caught gusts and bowed to the breath of the atmosphere. How long ago was it since he had seen another person in a lab coat? How long ago was it since he was trapped in white walls? How long ago was it since he felt those chains that squeezed the air out of his throat, that made his shoulders pop behind his back, that twisted his wrist– how long ago?

The bark of the tree that supported him felt so firm and gentle, it caught the ‘clothing’ that donned his body, but for the most part he was alright. The light for which shined down through the branches of the trees that shaded him from the bright sun, it provided the perfect lighting for him to write in his journal. The yellowing pages matched with the ink of a pen he had found in an alley way a long time ago, it all worked to sustain his notes and his research, things he had discovered and hypothesis he must test when he recovered completely from his injuries. The burns that covered his body back then were now healing nicely and were being replaced by skin, which was then covered by the clothing that grows out of his body.

The sound of a branch cracking just out of sight made him jump and he almost drew a line on the page, thankfully he did not. Milky blue eyes looked back and peeked out from his side of the tree, making contact with the form that stood just a ways off staring at him. Oh he did not like this, for some reason he detected something he wasn’t all too fond of. There was something wrong here, perhaps this was an unfortunate turn of events, or perhaps it was because of the dull throb in his skull, or maybe even because he was just paranoid. Whatever the reason for his suspicion, he was not pleased to see this stranger. Pulling himself from the ground with a wince, he got to his feet.

“What can I help you with?”

@theghostmistress

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

His hand stopped as those words filtered through his brain, what was that from again? So long ago it felt, since his escape in early February. He could recall the feeling of his skin being burned, his ‘clothes’ being torn, his body being crippled in all senses of the word, and yet he stood and walked away. He hid for a long time, quiet and silent, most likely believed to be dead as he worked hard to remain off the radar. Until he was able to move swiftly again, until he was fully recovered, most likely he would halt his experiments and disappear into the darkness of hiding.

The scent of flowers carried on the breeze was accompanied by the feeling of spring– That was such a long time ago wasn’t it? Now it was early April, as evidence by the tomfoolery that made themselves apparent in small towns; following traditions of April Fools Day. The warm air also showed the welcoming signs of spring, he could see the flowers blooming as time went on. Opening up their beautiful petals to reveal their interior, most likely to spread pollen and breed through the use of carriers such as butterflies and bees. Nevertheless they were splendid in appearance.

From where he sat underneath a tree he had no idea that there was a person nearby. His book in his hand, pen clenched tightly, the sunbeams that trickled through the shadows it was all so soothing. He enjoyed it greatly. While he was more of a night person, this was rather calming just as well. The soft wind was what alerted him to the feeling of being watched.

“Hello… What can I help you with?” He asked, confusion lacing his voice as his eyes stared onward to the stranger.

@counttheimpossible

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

His hand stopped as those words filtered through his brain, what was that from again? So long ago it felt, since his escape in early February. He could recall the feeling of his skin being burned, his ‘clothes’ being torn, his body being crippled in all senses of the word, and yet he stood and walked away. He hid for a long time, quiet and silent, most likely believed to be dead as he worked hard to remain off the radar. Until he was able to move swiftly again, until he was fully recovered, most likely he would halt his experiments and disappear into the darkness of hiding.

The scent of flowers carried on the breeze was accompanied by the feeling of spring-- That was such a long time ago wasn’t it? Now it was early April, as evidence by the tomfoolery that made themselves apparent in small towns; following traditions of April Fools Day. The warm air also showed the welcoming signs of spring, he could see the flowers blooming as time went on. Opening up their beautiful petals to reveal their interior, most likely to spread pollen and breed through the use of carriers such as butterflies and bees. Nevertheless they were splendid in appearance.

From where he sat underneath a tree he had no idea that there was a person nearby. His book in his hand, pen clenched tightly, the sunbeams that trickled through the shadows it was all so soothing. He enjoyed it greatly. While he was more of a night person, this was rather calming just as well. The soft wind was what alerted him to the feeling of being watched.

“Hello... What can I help you with?” He asked, confusion lacing his voice as his eyes stared onward to the stranger.

@fieldoc

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

How long ago was that? Judging by the June breeze that rippled through this world, it would seem that was far back months ago in February. Such a long time ago that was– with the winter vanishing into the past, the snow melting to be replaced. Tall grasses that reached up to the sky, dancing in the wind, with flowers that caught gusts and bowed to the breath of the atmosphere. How long ago was it since he had seen another person in a lab coat? How long ago was it since he was trapped in white walls? How long ago was it since he felt those chains that squeezed the air out of his throat, that made his shoulders pop behind his back, that twisted his wrist– how long ago?

The bark of the tree that supported him felt so firm and gentle, it caught the ‘clothing’ that donned his body, but for the most part he was alright. The light for which shined down through the branches of the trees that shaded him from the bright sun, it provided the perfect lighting for him to write in his journal. The yellowing pages matched with the ink of a pen he had found in an alley way a long time ago, it all worked to sustain his notes and his research, things he had discovered and hypothesis he must test when he recovered completely from his injuries. The burns that covered his body back then were now healing nicely and were being replaced by skin, which was then covered by the clothing that grows out of his body.

The sound of a branch cracking just out of sight made him jump and he almost drew a line on the page, thankfully he did not. Milky blue eyes looked back and peeked out from his side of the tree, making contact with the form that stood just a ways off staring at him. Oh he did not like this, for some reason he detected something he wasn’t all too fond of. There was something wrong here, perhaps this was an unfortunate turn of events, or perhaps it was because of the dull throb in his skull, or maybe even because he was just paranoid. Whatever the reason for his suspicion, he was not pleased to see this stranger. Pulling himself from the ground with a wince, he got to his feet.

“What can I help you with?”

@the-purple-hero

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

How long ago was that? Judging by the June breeze that rippled through this world, it would seem that was far back months ago in February. Such a long time ago that was– with the winter vanishing into the past, the snow melting to be replaced. Tall grasses that reached up to the sky, dancing in the wind, with flowers that caught gusts and bowed to the breath of the atmosphere. How long ago was it since he had seen another person in a lab coat? How long ago was it since he was trapped in white walls? How long ago was it since he felt those chains that squeezed the air out of his throat, that made his shoulders pop behind his back, that twisted his wrist– how long ago?

The bark of the tree that supported him felt so firm and gentle, it caught the ‘clothing’ that donned his body, but for the most part he was alright. The light for which shined down through the branches of the trees that shaded him from the bright sun, it provided the perfect lighting for him to write in his journal. The yellowing pages matched with the ink of a pen he had found in an alley way a long time ago, it all worked to sustain his notes and his research, things he had discovered and hypothesis he must test when he recovered completely from his injuries. The burns that covered his body back then were now healing nicely and were being replaced by skin, which was then covered by the clothing that grows out of his body.

The sound of a branch cracking just out of sight made him jump and he almost drew a line on the page, thankfully he did not. Milky blue eyes looked back and peeked out from his side of the tree, making contact with the form that stood just a ways off staring at him. Oh he did not like this, for some reason he detected something he wasn’t all too fond of. There was something wrong here, perhaps this was an unfortunate turn of events, or perhaps it was because of the dull throb in his skull, or maybe even because he was just paranoid. Perhaps it was because this entity was obviously not a human. Whatever the reason for his suspicion, he was not pleased to see this stranger. Pulling himself from the ground with a wince, he got to his feet.

“What can I help you with?”