Prompt Post: ROUND FOUR
ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND THREE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND FIVE >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
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He was looking at the faces of two people: one man, and a younger woman. Wesley shifted in his seat, left his feet planted to the floor and glanced about, weighing his options. There was a single door behind them. Heavy, polished oak, and firmly shut. There was no window at his back; nothing that he could possibly hurl his body through in order to escape. And, even then, they were on the third floor of an estate that must of spanned miles, nestled an otherwise unassuming village of England. That was, of course, not to say that Wesley was ever put off by heights.
Wesley bared his teeth and angled his head, returning his focus to the pair before him. The girl - Raven, he was told - had her hands pressed to the lower half of her face. Behind her fingers and the fall of her bangs, Wesley could see the way her forehead crumpled, and how her eyes were glossy and bright. His gaze shifted to the other man - Erik - when he addressed him.
Charl-
“Wesley,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “It’s Wesley.”
There was a slight consolation in the way Erik’s jaw steeled, and Wesley smiled, small and serene.
Wesley could feel it; the frustration that bled from where Erik was standing. It spread along the floor, sunk into the spaces between the wooden boards. It crept up Wesley’s legs like vines, tendrils of anger and resentment, some directed towards him, others not. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He shook his leg.
Wesley rolled his shoulders, waiting. And there it was, the clip of shoes on polished wood, the muted click as the handle of the door was held down, the person on the other side bracing himself as he pushed the door open.
Sometimes, he wondered what it looked like to other people-the way his body would coil upon itself, tight, like a spring, before bursting through the constraints of human limitations.
The air collapsed around him, thickening and lengthening at the same time. Distantly, he was aware of how blood pounded in his ears, matching the solid beating in his chest. To him, everything moved slowly; to them, he would have been inexplicably fast.
He was out of the room before either of the pair had the chance to move; gone before the third could react. Wesley had left him on his ass, glasses askew, but, fuck it. He was alive, and that was already more than he had left some people.
The place was something short of a castle. Wesley ran, trusting his instincts, impossibly light on his feet as he rounded a corner. Another flight, his head told him. The image of a staircase flashing in the forefront of his mind almost like a recollection before it was interrupted-a flash of animalistic determination as something hooked around his legs and dragged him down.
Wesley’s head bounced on the polished wooden floors, cracking loudly in an otherwise empty hallway. He blacked out for a split second and came to a moment later with the sound of that girl, and that man thumping along the hallway a level above. Wesley groaned, screwing his eyes shut before attempting to roll on his back.
The man who scrambled off him was the scientist he had knocked over earlier. He was still missing his glasses. Wesley stared at him through narrowed eyes, largely confused before dropping his gaze-
“Charles!”
It was the girl again, falling to her knees as she threw her arms around him.
Wesley twisted away without success, half unwilling to move for the pounding in his head.
The scientist was making noises about concussions and the possibility thereof, and Wesley glared at him from beneath his lashes-jaw firm, and vision wavering as he ignoring the woman who was pushing the hair out of his eyes, fingers threading through the strands to look for the bump.
Wesley tensed when she found it, and, instinctively, he curled towards her-pressing his face against the curve of her shoulder. She smelled of soap and perfume. Wesley breathed, trying to make sense of the familiarity that curled in his chest. He lifted a hand, held her elbow between his fingers and pushed her away.
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This is amazing so far! I liked how they wete expecting him to be confused and he was like lol no I can curve bullets and I kill people, nothing surprises me'
<3
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This paragraph is AMAZING, just wanted to tell you this, before I continue on reading.
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