[ACTIVE, OPEN]
Characters: James Sunderland
captainpillows , and Harvey Dent (Two Face)
makeyourluck
Content: Sunderland once again trying to be helpful and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Me meets with Dent to deliver a handgun.
Location: The corner of 30th.
Time of Day: Evening, shortly after this conversation.
Warnings: Probably language, and morbidness.
The sun was dipping below the horizon, the streets still warm from the day, but the cool air was settling over the city like a slow fog. Apparently James hadn't had enough of pretending he was useful. At any rate, he had been thankful for all the beautiful distractions. He would go and go and go until he couldn't go anymore and he would find his way to bed somehow and sleep without dreams. No long hours of sitting around the quiet cathedral, leaning back and looking at the red halo marking on the floor that wouldn't disappear. No time to think about Mary- think about what he'd done. How he got here.
The lake, the lake how cold the water was filling his lungs and white searing his eyes- all while she sat, so peaceful next to him; her thin hair floating up like so many strands of thread.... Oh what relief he'd felt- he'd see her soon, so soon.
Nothing to think about now but fixing his roof, running errands around the city, finding food. In a way, he preferred the concept of survival to actually living his life. It was his own special brand of coping.
Each encounter was a chance for death, in the end. It was only a matter of time until simply running, or fighting would not save him. And then...
And then...
He kept a brisk pace, winding his way down the streets, the promised spare handgun safe in his coat pocket. He'd even thought ahead to pack a few extra clips. What a considerate guy he was, so useful, so useful. As for himself, he was only armed with his trusty lead pipe. It had served him well and frankly, he found that fighting the crabs with a close-range weapon was more satisfying than bullets.
Meandering across the adjacent crosswalk (as if he actually needed to use it, but old habits die hard), at last he reached his destination, and he stood under the street sign.
The streetlights switched on overhead.
There was nobody here, it seemed.
"Hello? Harvey?" His lone visage twisted as he craned his neck to peer off into the fading light.
"Hello? Is anybody there?"
captainpillows , and Harvey Dent (Two Face)
makeyourluck
Content: Sunderland once again trying to be helpful and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Me meets with Dent to deliver a handgun.
Location: The corner of 30th.
Time of Day: Evening, shortly after this conversation.
Warnings: Probably language, and morbidness.
The sun was dipping below the horizon, the streets still warm from the day, but the cool air was settling over the city like a slow fog. Apparently James hadn't had enough of pretending he was useful. At any rate, he had been thankful for all the beautiful distractions. He would go and go and go until he couldn't go anymore and he would find his way to bed somehow and sleep without dreams. No long hours of sitting around the quiet cathedral, leaning back and looking at the red halo marking on the floor that wouldn't disappear. No time to think about Mary- think about what he'd done. How he got here.
The lake, the lake how cold the water was filling his lungs and white searing his eyes- all while she sat, so peaceful next to him; her thin hair floating up like so many strands of thread.... Oh what relief he'd felt- he'd see her soon, so soon.
Nothing to think about now but fixing his roof, running errands around the city, finding food. In a way, he preferred the concept of survival to actually living his life. It was his own special brand of coping.
Each encounter was a chance for death, in the end. It was only a matter of time until simply running, or fighting would not save him. And then...
And then...
He kept a brisk pace, winding his way down the streets, the promised spare handgun safe in his coat pocket. He'd even thought ahead to pack a few extra clips. What a considerate guy he was, so useful, so useful. As for himself, he was only armed with his trusty lead pipe. It had served him well and frankly, he found that fighting the crabs with a close-range weapon was more satisfying than bullets.
Meandering across the adjacent crosswalk (as if he actually needed to use it, but old habits die hard), at last he reached his destination, and he stood under the street sign.
The streetlights switched on overhead.
There was nobody here, it seemed.
"Hello? Harvey?" His lone visage twisted as he craned his neck to peer off into the fading light.
"Hello? Is anybody there?"