you make us want to die [open / active]
Characters: Seccom Masada, Mewtwo, Shilo, open
Setting: The Entrance Hall
Time: Night 014
Summary: A badly wounded Seccom Masada is brought into the house and seeks a bit of medical help. Unfortunately, Mewtwo gets to him first, and decides it's interrogation time. But as that would be a bit difficult to do with Masada dead all over the floor, Mewtwo brings him to someone he thinks can help.
Warnings: Blood, remembered violence and present wounded... ness.
Pain. That was what he first became aware of when he came to-- from what...? His memory was hazy, his entire mind fogged. He touched a hand to the source of the pain, lightly, seeing... a wound. He drew the hand to his face, staring dazedly at it-- blood. He was bleeding. But why?
He was on his ship, playing, alone, but then there had been a girl. Brown hair, dark eyes. The little dreamer. She was strange, looked at him as though he were an object, an incomplete thing. He couldn't speak, not like she did, and he couldn't make her understand, but she had been good company until... until the knife. That sparked something in his memory, eyes widening slightly but not quite seeing just yet. He remembered then, vividly-- her face was unreadable, her eyes so dark, and then there was the knife in her hand. He wasn't sure what he had done to provoke it-- but he couldn't ask, he couldn't speak like her. She had followed him even as he backed away, hands upheld, eyes silently pleading with her to stop, but she ignored all the signals of his fear. And then the knife was racing towards him through the air and he was frozen, he couldn't move, but then-- he slipped.
... the slip-- it had saved him, he realized, once the location of the wound sunk in. She'd been aiming to kill him, aiming for his heart, but, because he'd slipped, she'd missed her mark, even in her own dream. And it was then that he finally began to see, and he realized that this was anything but his ship, or even Mars. It was somewhere entirely new. Somewhere dark, as opposed to the unmarked white of his ship, with cold eyes watching him from every corner. He tried to push himself to a sitting position, slowly, but pain shot through him and he fell back with a strangled sound-- and then he realized with a shock that the voice that had made that sound was very different from the one he'd been limited to before. He took a moment to catch his breath before venturing, to no one, "... h... hello...?"
He could speak. Not in his own quiet little way as before-- he could speak as she had. He tried to get up again, struggling through the pain that time-- he couldn't stay there like that. He was bleeding. He managed to his feet, staggering pitifully before finally catching himself enough to head for the door at the end of the hall. He pushed it open, half-leaning his weight against it, and stepped through, a white hand held at his wound. There had to be someone nearby who could help. He just had to look. Though how long he could stay on his feet, he wasn't sure.
Setting: The Entrance Hall
Time: Night 014
Summary: A badly wounded Seccom Masada is brought into the house and seeks a bit of medical help. Unfortunately, Mewtwo gets to him first, and decides it's interrogation time. But as that would be a bit difficult to do with Masada dead all over the floor, Mewtwo brings him to someone he thinks can help.
Warnings: Blood, remembered violence and present wounded... ness.
Pain. That was what he first became aware of when he came to-- from what...? His memory was hazy, his entire mind fogged. He touched a hand to the source of the pain, lightly, seeing... a wound. He drew the hand to his face, staring dazedly at it-- blood. He was bleeding. But why?
He was on his ship, playing, alone, but then there had been a girl. Brown hair, dark eyes. The little dreamer. She was strange, looked at him as though he were an object, an incomplete thing. He couldn't speak, not like she did, and he couldn't make her understand, but she had been good company until... until the knife. That sparked something in his memory, eyes widening slightly but not quite seeing just yet. He remembered then, vividly-- her face was unreadable, her eyes so dark, and then there was the knife in her hand. He wasn't sure what he had done to provoke it-- but he couldn't ask, he couldn't speak like her. She had followed him even as he backed away, hands upheld, eyes silently pleading with her to stop, but she ignored all the signals of his fear. And then the knife was racing towards him through the air and he was frozen, he couldn't move, but then-- he slipped.
... the slip-- it had saved him, he realized, once the location of the wound sunk in. She'd been aiming to kill him, aiming for his heart, but, because he'd slipped, she'd missed her mark, even in her own dream. And it was then that he finally began to see, and he realized that this was anything but his ship, or even Mars. It was somewhere entirely new. Somewhere dark, as opposed to the unmarked white of his ship, with cold eyes watching him from every corner. He tried to push himself to a sitting position, slowly, but pain shot through him and he fell back with a strangled sound-- and then he realized with a shock that the voice that had made that sound was very different from the one he'd been limited to before. He took a moment to catch his breath before venturing, to no one, "... h... hello...?"
He could speak. Not in his own quiet little way as before-- he could speak as she had. He tried to get up again, struggling through the pain that time-- he couldn't stay there like that. He was bleeding. He managed to his feet, staggering pitifully before finally catching himself enough to head for the door at the end of the hall. He pushed it open, half-leaning his weight against it, and stepped through, a white hand held at his wound. There had to be someone nearby who could help. He just had to look. Though how long he could stay on his feet, he wasn't sure.