(no subject)
The work at the Prince Institute has been easier than Thorn could have expected, as it has yet to throw any eldritch horrors at him, or indeed even so much as a dog. Life in the city has, of course, been somewhat more chaotic, but seems to have calmed again. The murders are over and everyone is home again.
Sadly, this does not mean that all is well. Thorn has not been himself since Ume's capture. He is plagued by violent nightmares, in which he brutally injures or kills those he knows, in much the same fashion as he once killed a dog at Middle Area. The violent urges that lurk in his waking mind have begun to wane only slowly, but his appetite has yet to return. He is still present for meals, but eats distractedly, and only what he is given. His elevated state of nerves has him going through cigarettes more rapidly, and his cough has returned.
This latter urge drives him out of the house and off the porch, as far as the nearest newsstand to purchase another packet of smokes. On the way back his mind wanders, over the recent events and then farther back, to his time in Middle Area. The sound of a distant laugh, someone at play on the beach, comes to his ears like the bark of a dog. The wrench is out of his pocket in an instant. He looks around, wide-eyed, for any source of possible attack. When the dogs come for him, he will be ready.
He is not far from the house, but it doesn't occur to him as a place of safety. The neighbours, seeing a wild-eyed fellow in coveralls waving a spanner at thin air, hastily retreat indoors.
He may come to himself in time, provided no one calls out the police first.
Sadly, this does not mean that all is well. Thorn has not been himself since Ume's capture. He is plagued by violent nightmares, in which he brutally injures or kills those he knows, in much the same fashion as he once killed a dog at Middle Area. The violent urges that lurk in his waking mind have begun to wane only slowly, but his appetite has yet to return. He is still present for meals, but eats distractedly, and only what he is given. His elevated state of nerves has him going through cigarettes more rapidly, and his cough has returned.
This latter urge drives him out of the house and off the porch, as far as the nearest newsstand to purchase another packet of smokes. On the way back his mind wanders, over the recent events and then farther back, to his time in Middle Area. The sound of a distant laugh, someone at play on the beach, comes to his ears like the bark of a dog. The wrench is out of his pocket in an instant. He looks around, wide-eyed, for any source of possible attack. When the dogs come for him, he will be ready.
He is not far from the house, but it doesn't occur to him as a place of safety. The neighbours, seeing a wild-eyed fellow in coveralls waving a spanner at thin air, hastily retreat indoors.
He may come to himself in time, provided no one calls out the police first.