falseblack
in
damned
Night 53: M91-M100 Hallway
It seemed sleep was a world away, and what might have mattered in objectivity failed to move Nigredo. Martin Landel was unreachable, his nightly "additions" a consequence of the place itself. It wasn't that the boy didn't care-- No, wait. He honestly was apathetic, but he supposed the emotion would shift if they would inject more permanence into their little events. As it was, he could only wait until this Eagle presented itself.
Waiting, however, usually meant rest, and rest wouldn't come. Even the pretense of unconsciousness failed to occur; he was locked in a state that refused stagnation.
Nigredo worried, concern seeping in the most unlikely of ways. And if honesty was a capability, it would admit to brothers. He wouldn't watch them anymore--that role had ended days prior--and Rubedo and Albedo perhaps would never seek him out in light of their new issues. But one refused to registered on the link. Did for a temporary hour and then vanished before his mental eyes. The fact was a discomfort. Tinged, in fact, with panic. Nigredo remembered well what occurred last time, and though this proved to be of another nature, it wasn't easily ignored.
Therefore, the boy slid away from his bed, reached into the closet for his solitary weapon, and--
--tripped over his feet. It was not a terribly monumental lack of grace, but it was enough propel his good arm to the wall, fingers slamming against the plaster. Something gave under the impact. Something crunched under his ear.
And the world faded away.
[Fail teleport to here.]
Waiting, however, usually meant rest, and rest wouldn't come. Even the pretense of unconsciousness failed to occur; he was locked in a state that refused stagnation.
Nigredo worried, concern seeping in the most unlikely of ways. And if honesty was a capability, it would admit to brothers. He wouldn't watch them anymore--that role had ended days prior--and Rubedo and Albedo perhaps would never seek him out in light of their new issues. But one refused to registered on the link. Did for a temporary hour and then vanished before his mental eyes. The fact was a discomfort. Tinged, in fact, with panic. Nigredo remembered well what occurred last time, and though this proved to be of another nature, it wasn't easily ignored.
Therefore, the boy slid away from his bed, reached into the closet for his solitary weapon, and--
--tripped over his feet. It was not a terribly monumental lack of grace, but it was enough propel his good arm to the wall, fingers slamming against the plaster. Something gave under the impact. Something crunched under his ear.
And the world faded away.
[Fail teleport to here.]