((Guys, the person who was playing Cathy has left, she said so a few pages ago.
Also, I'm really sorry to see you go, .:Vitani:., but I understand. Thanks for letting me know.))
.
.
Cᴏʟᴇ Jᴏɴᴇs
"That sounds fine to me," Cole said to everyone, noting that he was was in a group with Ryley and Kat. It didn't matter to him, and they both seemed fairly competent. He was very excited to see what was behind the doors, especially if it was as otherworldly as Kat had said, well, he didn't know what to say. Visions of the fantasy novels he loved to read sprang up in his minds eye, but he squashed them quickly.
She could be lying, he thought to himself.
Don't get your hopes up.
Cole thought for a minute, and then asked, "The only thing is, how
are we going to get behind those doors? I mean, I haven't seen a key 'round here... and if there's that many doors there must be hundreds of keys. Why haven't we found any?" He remained seated, but the point he made disturbed him, and he wanted to pace around the room.
Dream worlds don't make sense, he thought to himself, but he refused to believe that this was a dream. With a sigh he stood. No one else seemed to be ready to leave yet, but he wanted to satisfy his curiosity, and he was relatively certain that no one was going to shoot him in the back.
He walked toward a random hallway, not caring who followed him, though he hoped someone did so he didn't look completely ridiculous. He walked in and turned a sharp corner, debating what door's keyhole he wanted to peep through.
.
.
..
.
Mᴏʀɢᴀɴ Bᴏɴʜᴀᴍ
"Fine, then. I'll just go," Morgan said to the boy behind her, stalking towards the voices she could hear nearby.
Dream people, she thought to herself.
Utterly unhelpful at the best of times. In her retreat, she had kicked something that scuffled along the floor. She reached down, picking up a bright silver key that contrasted the dusty floor.
Great, she thought,
more mysteries, and shoved it in her pocket.
She had walked down several hallways and was about to give up when she turned a corner and almost ran into a boy crouching before one of the doors, seemingly mesmerized by what he could see through the keyhole. "Hey! Dream boy!" she said, and he jumped, startled. "What are you looking at?"
He stared at Morgan, frozen, as if he had not expected anyone to appear. He didn't speak, though the look on his face seemed to show that he was trying to come up with something to say. Morgan took in his attire, a plaid shirt and work boots, and crinkled her nose.
First a preppy boy, and now a farmer, she thought, thoroughly disgusted with whatever engine ran her dreams.
Finally, the boy spoke. "I'm Cole," he said more confidently. "Why don't you look for yourself?"
