(no subject)
Walter was moving. He was moving without moving. His muscles were still and tense and he felt as though he'd just vomited. His eyes watered and his mouth tasted like a city puddle and his stomach - his abdominal muscles specifically - were aching. They moved in a vibration, telling him that they had been severely neglected. His body, once muscled and agile, was giving in to the island atrophy that happened with too much sun, too much sweating, and not enough violence.
It was all because he lost his face. That damn mask was gone, a part of the island now. Meshed with the sand and disintegrated into one more ruined thing the island could claim as a prize. And now, Walter laid, arms stretched out at his sides, underneath a ray of sun that seemed to beat down directly onto him.
Walter let out a gruff, uninspired breath. If he was lucky, he would lay here long enough in the sun that his insides would heat up to their boiling points, explode and mingle together with the other liquids in his stomach. It'd be a good time.
It was all because he lost his face. That damn mask was gone, a part of the island now. Meshed with the sand and disintegrated into one more ruined thing the island could claim as a prize. And now, Walter laid, arms stretched out at his sides, underneath a ray of sun that seemed to beat down directly onto him.
Walter let out a gruff, uninspired breath. If he was lucky, he would lay here long enough in the sun that his insides would heat up to their boiling points, explode and mingle together with the other liquids in his stomach. It'd be a good time.