(Untitled)

[ashtreelane]

Here, there is no light.

Here, there is no color to the walls or floor: just a uniform, ashy black.

Here, there is nothing -- no proof of what has come before, no prediction of what may come after.

There's only the darkness, the cold, and the long hallway stretching ahead.

Comments

[spcl_agt_cooper]

Cooper keeps his voice down, and his head up, and his eyes closed.

(The better to hear you with, my dear.)

"Hello?"

[ladyfirestarter]

(kid?)

Her voice isn't sharp, but it's with deliberate effort. "Who's there?"

[spcl_agt_cooper]

She's not that far away, if he's able to go by acoustics, but --

He doesn't move. Not yet. "Special Agent Dale Cooper, FBI." A little louder than before, and he listens in, closely.

...that's odd.

[ladyfirestarter]

"What is this place?"

[watching_you]

There's sounds: sneakers on the ashy floor, stumbling, the soft thud of someone walking into a wall. And here's a scirtch-scratch, fingers searching the surface, quiet movements of the air as arms take measure of the space.

Veronica speaks, beneath her breath. "What the hell?"

[ladyfirestarter]

One hand brushing the wall, one held out in front of her face, Charlie takes a step forward.

"Where are you? I'm over here --"

[watching_you]

"Here -" Veronica replies, instinctively.

It occurs to her that there are reasons why one should not trust strangers in the unknown dark, but it also likely a bit late for that. She moves towards the voice with hesitant movements, one hand always touching the wall.

"Who's there?"

[spcl_agt_cooper]

"Dale Cooper."

One step in the direction of the voices.

"Who are you two?"