/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...]
[As soon as he has his back turned, the fire goes out. In the blackness, a few flashes of light blink by, and it's only if someone really focuses on them that they can catch glimpse of images illuminated for moments at a time -- like looking through the broken shards of mirror, or maybe stained glass...
A gunshot here, a splash of blood across the pavement there, shadowy figures that aren't recognizable but still seem awfully violent and fast-moving. The sound of an explosion is the final noise that resonates, and there's a lingering smell of smoke when it suddenly becomes clear that he's now at the bottom of the steps.
Once the door reappears, the stairs are gone. Who knows if that's what was supposed to happen, but it's a good opportunity. Can't say he never did anything for him.]
[Mark shudders as the door reappears. if anyone were there, he'd pass it off as still being chilled from the rain, but he's a sheltered suburban kid. violence, blood, and explosions aren't his daily life - and even though those images were brief and scattered, they felt as real as if they were his own memories, here in the mind of whoever they belong to. their brevity makes them even more terrifying, really - he'll spend quite a few evenings unable to fall asleep quickly, trying to figure out what story those puzzle pieces cobble into]
Jesus Christ.
[rubbing his arms to ward off the chill that is, now, completely in his mind, he wanders out of the room in a bit of a daze, not even thinking to stop and look at the nameplate on his way to the elevator. he's intent on some kind of normalcy, maybe a cup of coffee in the kitchen. something warm, something solid]
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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A gunshot here, a splash of blood across the pavement there, shadowy figures that aren't recognizable but still seem awfully violent and fast-moving. The sound of an explosion is the final noise that resonates, and there's a lingering smell of smoke when it suddenly becomes clear that he's now at the bottom of the steps.
Once the door reappears, the stairs are gone. Who knows if that's what was supposed to happen, but it's a good opportunity. Can't say he never did anything for him.]
Reply
Jesus Christ.
[rubbing his arms to ward off the chill that is, now, completely in his mind, he wanders out of the room in a bit of a daze, not even thinking to stop and look at the nameplate on his way to the elevator. he's intent on some kind of normalcy, maybe a cup of coffee in the kitchen. something warm, something solid]
Reply
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