❧ fourth [dream / accidental video]
It was dark. There's a ground beneath him, but his shadow is white. There's no reason for him to walk, but there's no reason to not move. The air surrounding him is cold.
Sploosh.
He lifts his foot up-- a puddle of blood ripples at the contact. Elliot's eyes are glossed over- Blood had never bothered him the way it should have. He must have seen it everyday back at home. Further into the puddle of blood was his rather antique looking gun-- he wouldn't let anyone have the time of day to comment on it, because most who saw it were killed and taken away by the AfterImage. The blood is a river, now, and like Elliot's shadow, it illuminates a path for him to follow.
"Elliot-- hey, Elliot would you shut up for a minute?" Laughter. "I'm being serious here! I want this life to be my last, you know? I'm pretty sure this is the best life I got. So if I die-- quit laughing, asshole! If I die, you have to get rid of my clock. You have'ta swear, or I'll come looking for your in my next life as a big, angry badass!"
"Deal." Elliot spoke quietly, and stopped. The moment his feet stopped, the little river of blood rises up to his ankles. It's lukewarm, and it smells bad to him. He blinks out of his almost hypnotic like state enough to feet the blood rising up to his knees. Slowly, something approaches him, using the tides of the water to fuel it's movement.
It was his body. The body of his friend-- killed in a tussle with the guards of the castle of hearts. Elliot's breath hitched, and he reached out and grabbed the drifter's arm before he could float too far away. This man was dead already--
"Keep your promise," he spoke roughly. Elliot jumped, holding a bit tighter. He wanted to speak, but his lips wouldn't budge. The man ushered on. "Get out your gun. Get rid of the clock."
His hand reaches down and he grabs his gun. It drips with the blood from the river. He blinks once, and suddenly, he's not holding onto his friend anymore. He's holding onto Blood Dupre's arm, and the river is now at his waist. "B-Blood--!! Hey, what are you--"
"Get rid of the clock, Elliot," his voice is hushed. A small stream of blood escapes from the other man's lip. "Do it."
"Blood, I can't-- you..!" There are no excuses in his brain. He couldn't-- not to Blood. Despite that, his hand moves over Blood's chest unwillingly.
"No-- Blood!" He shuts his eyes tightly. He had made more of a friend in Blood than he ever had in another person. He couldn't--
BANG!
[ Elliot awakens from his sleep clutching his chest and trembling, slightly. He had never thought of anything like that-- if Blood died before him, would he want--? No...no, because Blood just doesn't die. That's not...like him. ]
....ugh.. [ he looks down at his chest-- all the twist and turning he had done while he was asleep had bothered the deep cut on his front. He places a hand on his forehead and sighs a bit. ]