(no subject)
What you don't get used to, when your body resets at death, is the pain.
Oh, his threshold is a decent amount higher than most people's, it's true, and the knowledge that you will survive does a lot to increase your tolerance, but when it comes to the few moments before the body dies from trauma or violence, there's little than can describe it.
The air pocket surrounding the TARDIS is unstable with the door shut on him, and only the grip he has on the sides prevent him being torn away the the leeching winds of the vacuum around it that is rapidly draining away his body heat. Jack waits as long as possible before he has to breathe in once more and it feels like inhaling ice crystals, but he keeps on screaming to be let back in, to be brought into the warm, and then for it to stop.
Until, inevitably, it does.
And wouldn't irony just have it that that's the point at which he lands in someplace entirely seperate from the cold emptiness of the Time Vortex, crashing to the floor and lying still, skin and clothes traced in frost crystals that begin to melt demurely in the sudden warmth of Milliways.
He's dead, naturally.
Give him a minute.
[OOC: It's half past three in the morning, and so I must draw a slowtime before I DIE. Unlike Jack, I don't come back when that happens. :( Will continue all tomorrow - you are all amazing. ♥]
Oh, his threshold is a decent amount higher than most people's, it's true, and the knowledge that you will survive does a lot to increase your tolerance, but when it comes to the few moments before the body dies from trauma or violence, there's little than can describe it.
The air pocket surrounding the TARDIS is unstable with the door shut on him, and only the grip he has on the sides prevent him being torn away the the leeching winds of the vacuum around it that is rapidly draining away his body heat. Jack waits as long as possible before he has to breathe in once more and it feels like inhaling ice crystals, but he keeps on screaming to be let back in, to be brought into the warm, and then for it to stop.
Until, inevitably, it does.
And wouldn't irony just have it that that's the point at which he lands in someplace entirely seperate from the cold emptiness of the Time Vortex, crashing to the floor and lying still, skin and clothes traced in frost crystals that begin to melt demurely in the sudden warmth of Milliways.
He's dead, naturally.
Give him a minute.
[OOC: It's half past three in the morning, and so I must draw a slowtime before I DIE. Unlike Jack, I don't come back when that happens. :( Will continue all tomorrow - you are all amazing. ♥]