Entry #89

Feb. 4th, 2017 11:57 am
postictal: (clawing at the walls)
[personal profile] postictal
[The world is dark, and it's quiet. Suffocation's an unpleasant way to go, and everyone knows it. The heat and the pressure crawls up into the back of your throat and your eyes feel like they'll burst, your .hea'ds poudning., your breath high and tight and ragged in your lungs that scream for deeper breaths, for air, and that's when everything else begins to pulse in an unfurling of phosphenes and scalding colors across the backs of your eyelids.

You get dizzy. The panic, assuming it hasn't set in by then, claws its way up your esophagus as your jaw parts, throat straining to take in air that doesn't exist with a high-pitched, dragging wheeze.

Unfortunately for Tim, it seems the panic settled in early; cloying and unbearable and tearing away at what little composure he still had. He'd switched on his device at some point, though his oxygen-starved brain can't possibly latch onto what that reasoning might have been, not now. Possibly a cry for help, hastily stifled. Have you seen this video before? It's possible that you have. It's possible that it's gone up already, only for the hitching slide of time to roll things back. Déjà vu. It's a hell of a thing.

When you've begun to suffocate, perception of reality - already muddled to a gross fault and exceptionally poor to begin with, for one unfortunate Mr. Wright - tends to be one of the first things to go.

The subject of the video is pressed somewhere in the corner of the room, practically wedged there, curled around himself with his hands sunk into the fabric of his shirt. Words stream from him in a perpetual rise and fall, a breathless litany, high and sharp with a cresting panic:]

Not coming for me and if it does I'm dying anyway. 'S not coming for me and if it does I'm dying anyway, it's not coming for me and if it does I'm dying anyway it's not coming for me and if it does I'm dying anyway -

[His voice breaks. He buries his face in his hands.

He's seeing something in the corner of his eye that's not there, regressed to the state he always regresses to when that thing creeps into his memory, nothing more than a scared and trembling little boy huddled in a windowless hospital room, and it's keeping him pinned until his air runs out. And that's looking to be - soon.

Very soon.]
geiger: (☢ 09)
[personal profile] geiger
[A woman in a bright blue jumpsuit looks warily into the device as she balances it awkwardly against the stock of her gun, which she's still trying to hold in both hands while broadcasting at the same time. She glances quickly away again, muttering in frustration as she tries to get a device on her wrist to work, then jumping in panic as she hears a noise, uncertain whether ferals or super mutants or something even worse is about to descend on her.]

If anyone's receiving this message, please respond. I'm looking for my companion, Nick Valentine. He's a synth, but don't be alarmed, he's not going to hurt you.

[A pause while she peers tentatively round a corner to check that it's safe.]

And ... if anyone's seen a baby boy, please let me know.
[personal profile] ratsratsrats
[The time is 2:30 in the morning. It's dead quiet.]

[Suddenly, without warning...]


[An angry old man's voice is shouting on the network. You all didn't really need sleep after surviving four days in the jungle, did you?]

Is this what you like to do all day? TEASE people relentlessly until they're at wit's end?! I would have been happier to be back in my room with the creatures left here, happier after hearing life, life everywhere but finding nothing... If you hadn't teased me with visions of the master!

[He whimpers a little, resting his voice after screaming so much. The errant buzz of an insect could be heard if one listened carefully.]

...Not his fault. It's can't be his fault...

He can't send people so far away from the world... Can he?
pig_and_pepper: ({ Thinking again? })
[personal profile] pig_and_pepper
[ The Duchess stands on the beach in new attire. She balances head and hat on her neck with caution. The high collar is of use. The sand around her is disturbed, by ordinary footsteps and peculiar traces alike. She looks at something far beyond the video transmission, her voice as distant as her gaze. ]

We reflect on the actions of the past; We can't let go. We want to move forward. We can't change. We don't want to change. We want to protect. But there are Others. Others that won't give up. We can not help but be moved. We can't-- We can't help. But. Ha--no!

[ The Duchess lets out an ear-piercing shriek. ]

I am not her any longer! My duke! My dear duke, come to me! Remind me who I am! Their dry bones grasp for ours, 'tis no time for a crisis of character, we haveourresolveshatteredwecan'thelpbutbecomewholeagain.We-- We do not want our children hurt... so long we have waited-- Duke! Stop her, I say! Stop her from trying!

[ At last - apparently - the Duchess' piglet waddles into view, and finds shelter underneath her dress. The Duchess scoops him up with relief. ]

There! Come, my love, we are already late. There is still enough time to seek shelter- from the lesser of the evils, at least!


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