♫ s e v e n - [ v i d e o / a c t i o n ]
[There were many times back in Inaba when Yosuke had waited, staring at the clock on his mp3 player, for the digits to hit 0:00. He'd done that for a very important reason, knowing that what he looked at on the screen of his unplugged TV could literally be life or death for someone.
The reason he was doing it now was also important, but not, to his mind, on the same scale. Sure, the Bogeyman in the closet was unsettling and unnerving, but now that the cloying fear wasn't lapping around his senses, it was easier to think of it in terms of just another ugly Shadow. Just another creepy monster to smash. Sure, it was covered in blood and sitting on a pile of bones, but what the hell, how was that scarier than Dominatrix Bananahead? Or Shadow don'tevengothere Kanji? Hell, it had nothing on Ameno Sagiri, and less on Izanam -
Yeah, not scary at all.
He took out the communicator and set it on the table beside him, switching it to a video feed. It had a clear view of the cupboard door in the Inn, as well as that side of the well-lit room. Yosuke waits beside it, his hand visible on the table, fingers drumming. He seems full of nervous energy.
The communicators flick to midnight. There's a pause. Yosuke's fingers stop drumming...
... And then, in an old, creaking, dry-as-dust voice, something speaks.]
Go to bed.
[... Or perhaps that was just the creaking of the cellar door, if you're over twenty-one years of age. To anyone under it, however, the pause while Yosuke sucks in a breath is fairly obvious. Something about it sends fingers of fear up the spine, and reminds you of the times you go to bed and can't help but think that something is standing in the corner of your dark room.
The voice speaks again.]
It's really very late.
[Again, to an adult, the voice might just be any amalgamation of night sounds. To a child or a teen, it's nerve-wracking.
Still, Yosuke manages to stand and come closer to the door, his back to the camera. He puts his hand against it.]
Um. E-excuse me, b-but why should I go to bed?
[Perhaps worded in a mouthy sort of way, but polite enough. There's silence, and then, perhaps, perhaps, the softest little whine of an indrawn breath (or, perhaps, the wind whistling down the chimney)...]
It's late.
[The door does not seem to open. There isn't the tell-tale creak of the hinges as it does so. However, suddenly it is slightly ajar, an protruding out of it is a hand, huge, longfingered and flawed raw.
Of course, an adult might rationalize it as a collection of shadows, containing something reflective that the firelight dances off of.
How they rationalize the lightening fast was it shoots towards Yosuke's leg and clamps around the meat of his calf is entirely another. Maybe the clumsy teenager simply tripped over his own feet.
Yosuke lets out a cry of shock. The grip seems to tighten, the long rope of lacerated arm retracting back into the darkness of the cupboard.]
Of course, if you want to stay up, perhaps you can stay up with me... every single night...
[Yosuke fumbles for his knives and grips one in his dominant hand, beginning to hack at the fingers gripping him. The feed, left running with no one to keep it going, darkens around the edges and then flickers off.]
The reason he was doing it now was also important, but not, to his mind, on the same scale. Sure, the Bogeyman in the closet was unsettling and unnerving, but now that the cloying fear wasn't lapping around his senses, it was easier to think of it in terms of just another ugly Shadow. Just another creepy monster to smash. Sure, it was covered in blood and sitting on a pile of bones, but what the hell, how was that scarier than Dominatrix Bananahead? Or Shadow don'tevengothere Kanji? Hell, it had nothing on Ameno Sagiri, and less on Izanam -
Yeah, not scary at all.
He took out the communicator and set it on the table beside him, switching it to a video feed. It had a clear view of the cupboard door in the Inn, as well as that side of the well-lit room. Yosuke waits beside it, his hand visible on the table, fingers drumming. He seems full of nervous energy.
The communicators flick to midnight. There's a pause. Yosuke's fingers stop drumming...
... And then, in an old, creaking, dry-as-dust voice, something speaks.]
Go to bed.
[... Or perhaps that was just the creaking of the cellar door, if you're over twenty-one years of age. To anyone under it, however, the pause while Yosuke sucks in a breath is fairly obvious. Something about it sends fingers of fear up the spine, and reminds you of the times you go to bed and can't help but think that something is standing in the corner of your dark room.
The voice speaks again.]
It's really very late.
[Again, to an adult, the voice might just be any amalgamation of night sounds. To a child or a teen, it's nerve-wracking.
Still, Yosuke manages to stand and come closer to the door, his back to the camera. He puts his hand against it.]
Um. E-excuse me, b-but why should I go to bed?
[Perhaps worded in a mouthy sort of way, but polite enough. There's silence, and then, perhaps, perhaps, the softest little whine of an indrawn breath (or, perhaps, the wind whistling down the chimney)...]
It's late.
[The door does not seem to open. There isn't the tell-tale creak of the hinges as it does so. However, suddenly it is slightly ajar, an protruding out of it is a hand, huge, longfingered and flawed raw.
Of course, an adult might rationalize it as a collection of shadows, containing something reflective that the firelight dances off of.
How they rationalize the lightening fast was it shoots towards Yosuke's leg and clamps around the meat of his calf is entirely another. Maybe the clumsy teenager simply tripped over his own feet.
Yosuke lets out a cry of shock. The grip seems to tighten, the long rope of lacerated arm retracting back into the darkness of the cupboard.]
Of course, if you want to stay up, perhaps you can stay up with me... every single night...
[Yosuke fumbles for his knives and grips one in his dominant hand, beginning to hack at the fingers gripping him. The feed, left running with no one to keep it going, darkens around the edges and then flickers off.]