Theses voices in my head are leading me on,
WHO:Schuldig and Crawford
WHAT: Fall out from the week 2 visions
WHERE: Schwartz House
WHEN: Night of 249
Schuldig leaned against the window ledge, sleepy and bored, but feeling apathetic enough not to do anything about either of them until they pressed more. He could go find his monster, taste some of it's Kill's fear, but that would involve finding his boots and coat, and he wasn't really ready to do that just yet. He didn’t quite feel tired enough to go crawl into his bed, either. Long days of waiting made him at first restless, and then, lethargic and lazy. Too much time in the safe house, not enough scheaming and fucking shit up.
His eyes drifted over to the strange haze he hadn't paid much attention to, and then, he was sure he saw something and squinted his eyes, trying to make it out in the darkening sky.
It was definitively a basement. The damp smell of concrete and earth and the darkness gave it away. Schuldig had spent some times in basements. Sometimes hiding out, sometimes just cleaning up a mess or disposing of bodies. Sometimes just stealing things. So he knew basements when he saw one, and this one felt rather like the one that belonged to the house. He would have to double-check.
He knew it was a vision, instantly--he remembered how they felt from when he’d been in Crawford’s head, and he wondered what barried had been breeched in their mind that he was getting Crawford's visions.
Schuldig looked out of eyes that were and weren’t his own- He’d looked out other’s eyes before while he'd been shacked up in their head, but he hadn't felt this detached from his own head since he'd been a child. When he was just beginning to explore his powers and when he hadn't known whose head he really belonged in. Trippy.
Crawford, Nagi, Farfarello and a man that seemed familiar but who he had never met. He listened to the conversation, watching his team and the other man, curiously listening to them talk, with growing curiosity and interest.
"These pieces of metal come from the collar of the hellcat that was defeated by Crawford, Cross Marian, and myself two weeks ago. I broke it with my kinetics. In the whole city there are only these three pieces and if they are located on the bodies of Schuldig, Farfarello, and myself, I should be able to use their uniqueness as an anchor for my Talent, like a tracking device." Nagi said, showing the pieces. Schuldig looked at them, and then back at Nagi.
"The problem is location on the body. It can't be obvious. It can't be sloppy. Thus, it probably needs implanted." Nagi continued.
And then some of the others spoke and Sculdig realized what was happening. He could feel the emotions in his own head which wasn't his head, feel the thoughts he wasn’t speaking which were his but which weren't. The apprehension, the sulking unwillingness, but the necessity of it, and the loyalty to the team and the fear...
Schuldig fell back, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes. Pain lanced through his mind and he yelled out for Crawford, mentally and out loud perhaps, as he scrambled to keep his self intact. The vision was a grenade being thrown into a field. The field in this case, being his mind. The migraine slammed into his head so hard he didn't feel the blood trickle from his ears or nose.
He didn’t lose consciousness, and really, the part of him that could still think, wished he had, because at least unconscious, he wouldn’t feel so horrible. Like wanting to vomit and gouge his brain out with his fingers all at the same time. Because that wouldn’t be as horrible as what he felt right now. He hadn’t felt anything like this since Rozenkrezu, and that had been training for psychic attacks. Learning through experience was how they taught best… it had been effective because what better teacher was pain and the violation of your head? But he’d hated it, and as such he’d become very good at defending against that sort of thing. Schuldig knew it wasn’t a psychic attacking him, because he would probably be dead or completely compromised if it were someone powerful enough to surprise him so completely, and get so deep into his head fast enough for him not to react. He wouldn’t have had time to yell for Crawford, or yell at all, really.
Besides, he hadn’t met anyone who had been able to surprise him so completely after the first couple times, so the fact that he was alive and still in control of his head meant it was something else. He’d been powerful enough to shield his entire team and their mutinous plans from Rozenkreuz’s elders. They hadn’t ever suspected Schwartz’s treachery.
Although he couldn’t think through the pain in his head, he would have blamed Crawford for letting a barrier between them laps, feeding the vision into his head.
WHAT: Fall out from the week 2 visions
WHERE: Schwartz House
WHEN: Night of 249
Schuldig leaned against the window ledge, sleepy and bored, but feeling apathetic enough not to do anything about either of them until they pressed more. He could go find his monster, taste some of it's Kill's fear, but that would involve finding his boots and coat, and he wasn't really ready to do that just yet. He didn’t quite feel tired enough to go crawl into his bed, either. Long days of waiting made him at first restless, and then, lethargic and lazy. Too much time in the safe house, not enough scheaming and fucking shit up.
His eyes drifted over to the strange haze he hadn't paid much attention to, and then, he was sure he saw something and squinted his eyes, trying to make it out in the darkening sky.
It was definitively a basement. The damp smell of concrete and earth and the darkness gave it away. Schuldig had spent some times in basements. Sometimes hiding out, sometimes just cleaning up a mess or disposing of bodies. Sometimes just stealing things. So he knew basements when he saw one, and this one felt rather like the one that belonged to the house. He would have to double-check.
He knew it was a vision, instantly--he remembered how they felt from when he’d been in Crawford’s head, and he wondered what barried had been breeched in their mind that he was getting Crawford's visions.
Schuldig looked out of eyes that were and weren’t his own- He’d looked out other’s eyes before while he'd been shacked up in their head, but he hadn't felt this detached from his own head since he'd been a child. When he was just beginning to explore his powers and when he hadn't known whose head he really belonged in. Trippy.
Crawford, Nagi, Farfarello and a man that seemed familiar but who he had never met. He listened to the conversation, watching his team and the other man, curiously listening to them talk, with growing curiosity and interest.
"These pieces of metal come from the collar of the hellcat that was defeated by Crawford, Cross Marian, and myself two weeks ago. I broke it with my kinetics. In the whole city there are only these three pieces and if they are located on the bodies of Schuldig, Farfarello, and myself, I should be able to use their uniqueness as an anchor for my Talent, like a tracking device." Nagi said, showing the pieces. Schuldig looked at them, and then back at Nagi.
"The problem is location on the body. It can't be obvious. It can't be sloppy. Thus, it probably needs implanted." Nagi continued.
And then some of the others spoke and Sculdig realized what was happening. He could feel the emotions in his own head which wasn't his head, feel the thoughts he wasn’t speaking which were his but which weren't. The apprehension, the sulking unwillingness, but the necessity of it, and the loyalty to the team and the fear...
Schuldig fell back, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes. Pain lanced through his mind and he yelled out for Crawford, mentally and out loud perhaps, as he scrambled to keep his self intact. The vision was a grenade being thrown into a field. The field in this case, being his mind. The migraine slammed into his head so hard he didn't feel the blood trickle from his ears or nose.
He didn’t lose consciousness, and really, the part of him that could still think, wished he had, because at least unconscious, he wouldn’t feel so horrible. Like wanting to vomit and gouge his brain out with his fingers all at the same time. Because that wouldn’t be as horrible as what he felt right now. He hadn’t felt anything like this since Rozenkrezu, and that had been training for psychic attacks. Learning through experience was how they taught best… it had been effective because what better teacher was pain and the violation of your head? But he’d hated it, and as such he’d become very good at defending against that sort of thing. Schuldig knew it wasn’t a psychic attacking him, because he would probably be dead or completely compromised if it were someone powerful enough to surprise him so completely, and get so deep into his head fast enough for him not to react. He wouldn’t have had time to yell for Crawford, or yell at all, really.
Besides, he hadn’t met anyone who had been able to surprise him so completely after the first couple times, so the fact that he was alive and still in control of his head meant it was something else. He’d been powerful enough to shield his entire team and their mutinous plans from Rozenkreuz’s elders. They hadn’t ever suspected Schwartz’s treachery.
Although he couldn’t think through the pain in his head, he would have blamed Crawford for letting a barrier between them laps, feeding the vision into his head.