Then the world was gone. [Open to friends, approach with caution]
No light.
No sound.
Didn't like not seeing. Never liked not seeing. Let a doctor shove needles into his retinas so he could see all the time.
Riddick had been walking home when the world went away, Honey at his heels as usual. One second, world normal, next...
He thought he'd been tranqued, but he was still moving, could still feel and smell, taste the air. Just no light. No sound.
He'd panicked, in the way that he panicked-- his instinct taking over, simple animal needs overwhelming conscious thought. He'd groped into an alley, sized it with his hands, and then found a corner to crouch in. He was hyperventilating, messenger forgotten even if he could have used it. Survival was the only objective; one hand found the knife in his boot on autopilot, the metal body-warm and reassuring in his hand.
Honey licked his face; he clenched his free hand hand on the dog's collar to keep him nearby, keep a living point of contact with the world. His ears were ringing with phantom noise-- his head full of all the things that could be closing in on him now. Bounty hunters; worse things. Things he could never know were there until the pain started.
The alley stunk-- trash, and fear. His.
[Riddick has been psychically blinded and deafened. It's not a physical ailment-- it can't be fixed. If someone he doesn't know approaches him, he will do his level best to kill them.]
No sound.
Didn't like not seeing. Never liked not seeing. Let a doctor shove needles into his retinas so he could see all the time.
Riddick had been walking home when the world went away, Honey at his heels as usual. One second, world normal, next...
He thought he'd been tranqued, but he was still moving, could still feel and smell, taste the air. Just no light. No sound.
He'd panicked, in the way that he panicked-- his instinct taking over, simple animal needs overwhelming conscious thought. He'd groped into an alley, sized it with his hands, and then found a corner to crouch in. He was hyperventilating, messenger forgotten even if he could have used it. Survival was the only objective; one hand found the knife in his boot on autopilot, the metal body-warm and reassuring in his hand.
Honey licked his face; he clenched his free hand hand on the dog's collar to keep him nearby, keep a living point of contact with the world. His ears were ringing with phantom noise-- his head full of all the things that could be closing in on him now. Bounty hunters; worse things. Things he could never know were there until the pain started.
The alley stunk-- trash, and fear. His.
[Riddick has been psychically blinded and deafened. It's not a physical ailment-- it can't be fixed. If someone he doesn't know approaches him, he will do his level best to kill them.]