/loves on this headspace foreverhard_talkerSeptember 8 2011, 02:15:09 UTC
[Mark's avoiding his room as much as he can, now that he's managed - somehow - to get out of there and away from his persona. wandering around just leads to more thinking, though, and eventually he realizes he needs to get out of his own head.
the first thought his impulsive teenage brain has is, naturally, to go into someone else's. he opens the first door he sees when he thinks of it, and wanders inside.]
Whoa. ... Okay. Goin' up ...?
[and since he's got nothing better to do, he starts toward the stairs...]
[Just be glad there aren't any talking frogs to trip him on the steps; especially when the rain starts to fall. Maybe all that water outside was a hint to bring an umbrella...]
[The umbrella appears, so something must be working. The rain doesn't seem that offended though; it's just starting up. The higher he chooses to go, the harder it comes and the darker it gets.
Hopefully he has good shoes on. All that wet marble is bound to get slippery.]
[good old sneakers, dependable in any weather. he does slip just a little, as the rain gets harder, though, and manages to catch himself before he falls backwards on his ass. it's a long way down, after all. he pauses, a good distance up, and tries to peer out from under the umbrella, through the rain]
Whoever you belong to ... what the hell's worth this kind of ...
[half of him is wet and cold and wants to turn back. but the reporter side of him, the side he's been forced to get to know a little more intimately the past few days, digs his heels in - literally - and keeps climbing, for now]
[If Spike were there to answer, he would make up some story about his family being killed in a storm. Anything is better than analyzing himself, and metaphors are clearly not his friends. Something caused his weird obsession with rain.
...
That light in the distance seems to be getting dimmer with each step, and pretty soon the floodgates will open.]
Okay, this ... this isn't looking like fun, anymore. Field trip's about to get cancelled for weather, kids, everyone back to the bus.
[Mark turns and looks behind him. it's not looking like a fun trip back down, all that water and marble, and no railing. so he turns and looks back up. comparatively, how far is he? halfway? farther? he takes a second to try and gauge it]
[Maybe it's payback for the umbrella, or maybe it's trying to make up his mind for him, because once the rain starts to get heavier it doesn't stop. Wherever the storm is coming from, it seems awfully damned focused on his location, and there's no telling when it will break.
Pretty soon there will be a waterfall coming down these steps.]
[he lets out a holler as the water comes pouring down at him, and doesn't dare move. he just crouches down on the steps, not caring that it'll just get him even wetter - he just doesn't relish getting washed down the stairs. it'd probably break his neck from this height, or at least some other, less vital bones. and since Ino's been AWOL lately, he's not relishing the thought of a trip to the clinic.
so he'll huddle and wait for a break in it - or at least until he figures out how to get down without getting hurt. it can't last forever, right? right? no one's head is full of this much insane bullshit...]
[It doesn't give any indication of letting up when he crouches down and the water rushes over his feet, like it's really trying to make a point here. Maybe someone else will have a better chance of listening than the man who lives with this half-memory rinsing his mind clean.
Then, very suddenly the tap runs dry. The sun hasn't come out, it's as black as ever, but the downpour lessons to a drizzle in a matter of moments. It's either over, or this is the eye of the storm. Either way, he's got a choice of continuing up or risking running into the same thing on the way down.]
[Mark shakes out his umbrella, and takes advantage of the drizzle to take his shirt off and wring it out. shrugging it back on, he folds up the umbrella for the time being ... and keeps going. he's come this far, he may as well.]
[It's not up much further that the ground shifts, almost like the stairs are breaking apart. Luckily, it's nothing that dramatic -- they're just becoming more like uneven rocks that make the climb slightly more challenging.
That's when the fog rolls in (because it wasn't hard enough to see where he was going before, right?). There's clearly something up ahead though, something close, and if he's not too tired to make it up there, the faint sound of chanting might be a good indicator that he's not entirely alone.]
[Whoever it is chanting, they're not hiding. From the darkness, a campfire comes into view just ahead. Beside it is a man who looks altogether ancient. His hand is filled with sand that falls between his fingers like the counting from an hourglass.
He doesn't make any indication that he heard someone calling out. Maybe he doesn't speak English, or maybe he just needs to finish whatever it is he's doing.]
[as Mark comes right up to him, he thinks about saying something again, but something about the man's attitude gives him pause. instead, he'll just hunch down near the fire, letting the welcome warmth seep through his soaking wet clothes, and listen.
after a little while, he decides it's definitely a soothing sound, even if he can't understand it]
[The chanting stops not long after he sits. The old man can tell someone is there even before opening his eyes, but he doesn't appear to be disturbed. There's only one reason people find their way to him, after all.]
the first thought his impulsive teenage brain has is, naturally, to go into someone else's. he opens the first door he sees when he thinks of it, and wanders inside.]
Whoa. ... Okay. Goin' up ...?
[and since he's got nothing better to do, he starts toward the stairs...]
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Hopefully he has good shoes on. All that wet marble is bound to get slippery.]
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Whoever you belong to ... what the hell's worth this kind of ...
[half of him is wet and cold and wants to turn back. but the reporter side of him, the side he's been forced to get to know a little more intimately the past few days, digs his heels in - literally - and keeps climbing, for now]
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...
That light in the distance seems to be getting dimmer with each step, and pretty soon the floodgates will open.]
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[Mark turns and looks behind him. it's not looking like a fun trip back down, all that water and marble, and no railing. so he turns and looks back up. comparatively, how far is he? halfway? farther? he takes a second to try and gauge it]
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Pretty soon there will be a waterfall coming down these steps.]
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so he'll huddle and wait for a break in it - or at least until he figures out how to get down without getting hurt. it can't last forever, right? right? no one's head is full of this much insane bullshit...]
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Then, very suddenly the tap runs dry. The sun hasn't come out, it's as black as ever, but the downpour lessons to a drizzle in a matter of moments. It's either over, or this is the eye of the storm. Either way, he's got a choice of continuing up or risking running into the same thing on the way down.]
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[Mark shakes out his umbrella, and takes advantage of the drizzle to take his shirt off and wring it out. shrugging it back on, he folds up the umbrella for the time being ... and keeps going. he's come this far, he may as well.]
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That's when the fog rolls in (because it wasn't hard enough to see where he was going before, right?). There's clearly something up ahead though, something close, and if he's not too tired to make it up there, the faint sound of chanting might be a good indicator that he's not entirely alone.]
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He doesn't make any indication that he heard someone calling out. Maybe he doesn't speak English, or maybe he just needs to finish whatever it is he's doing.]
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after a little while, he decides it's definitely a soothing sound, even if he can't understand it]
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You've come far to get to this point.
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