♋ 13th Memo [Accidental Video]
[When the feed came on at first there was nothing but darkness. The soft sound of rubbing is heard over the receiver. Was the watch being brushed up against something? Regardless of where the watch was all that could be concluded was the lack of feed and nothing but audio. If one listened closely they would hear the soft sound of footsteps across a dusty floor. It's soon followed by some quick coughing.]
Gog, this place is a breeding ground for dust. Stupid old, about to crumble hive. Why do I always get myself....
[The troll' voice cuts off for a moment and his footsteps come to a halt.]
What...was that? Okay assholes very funny. Splitting my sides here with the amount of laughter I'm dishing out at the pathetic attempt to frighten me just then.
[There! He heard it again. It was nothing more then a faint whisper, gently hovering by his ear. Small words echoed around him, 'They're dead','It's your fault','What a horrible leader','Such a failure.' Of course these ghostly whispers are heard quite clearly over the communicator and seem to have quite an affect on the troll.]
Shut up! [His voice was high and unstable.]
[His footsteps pick up again now at a a running pace as he tries to find the exit, but only gets himself deeper into the old house. Constant is the sound of his steps, until the troll becomes careless. He stumbles upon a plank of wood that had mysteriously had been sticking out. Needless to say the troll falls to the floor. The communicator manages to fall from his pocket to the floor, feed now focused on the ceiling above.
A bit stunned Karkat manages to get to his feet, picking up the communicator in the process. He quickly asses the damage to himself and concludes that it is nothing big. A scrape on his hands and maybe a bruise, but that is the least of his worries. As soon as he picks his head he takes a step back. In front of him are the transparent figures of his dead teammates. Each one soaked in their own blood color, soulless white eyes staring back at Karkat. The feed catching the scene before hand as the communicator sits tightly in Karkat's palm.]
Karkat....[They whisper over and over. The voices soft at first, but soon escalate to eerie cries.] It's your fault!
Gog, this place is a breeding ground for dust. Stupid old, about to crumble hive. Why do I always get myself....
[The troll' voice cuts off for a moment and his footsteps come to a halt.]
What...was that? Okay assholes very funny. Splitting my sides here with the amount of laughter I'm dishing out at the pathetic attempt to frighten me just then.
[There! He heard it again. It was nothing more then a faint whisper, gently hovering by his ear. Small words echoed around him, 'They're dead','It's your fault','What a horrible leader','Such a failure.' Of course these ghostly whispers are heard quite clearly over the communicator and seem to have quite an affect on the troll.]
Shut up! [His voice was high and unstable.]
[His footsteps pick up again now at a a running pace as he tries to find the exit, but only gets himself deeper into the old house. Constant is the sound of his steps, until the troll becomes careless. He stumbles upon a plank of wood that had mysteriously had been sticking out. Needless to say the troll falls to the floor. The communicator manages to fall from his pocket to the floor, feed now focused on the ceiling above.
A bit stunned Karkat manages to get to his feet, picking up the communicator in the process. He quickly asses the damage to himself and concludes that it is nothing big. A scrape on his hands and maybe a bruise, but that is the least of his worries. As soon as he picks his head he takes a step back. In front of him are the transparent figures of his dead teammates. Each one soaked in their own blood color, soulless white eyes staring back at Karkat. The feed catching the scene before hand as the communicator sits tightly in Karkat's palm.]
Karkat....[They whisper over and over. The voices soft at first, but soon escalate to eerie cries.] It's your fault!