Words, words, words

[thelongcon]

the quote prompt meme

• comment with your character.
• others will leave a quote/lyric/poem. try a sea of quotes or tumblr if you need help searching for a quote.
• reply to them with a setting based on the quote/lyric/poem.
•  sockies (Source)

Comments

[goregies]

[Where the fuck is --

Something in his brain grinds to a stop and flares with the friction. He knows, but then -- ]

-- Oh.

[The body, it's just the body, and if he knew -- his asking would probably be worded a lot different.

He starts laughing. Short, quiet, dry, confused and with his head whirling, through the modulator. He's furious, he's getting a bizarre sick feeling he can't quite place, he's baffled, son of a bitch, Chris, this is wrong, wrong, wrong, you were not supposed to come back!

But it's okay. There’s still a chance to save this. Still plenty of chance. Chris is scared - he can’t be wrong to be so sure of that, and if he is, they’re both stupid. Both, because Chris doesn’t know. It’s not time for him to yet, not for hours, and if he doesn't know, then it is stupid of him to be brave right now.

Stupid...!

He walks to Chris standing put, not even that fast, but feels like he's storming, exerting all the intimidation he can – bluff all you want, Chris;

Instant reality check when he pauses in his tracks on Chris taking a step.

His lungs swell under the padding of the costume. He calls on the voice he used over the recording, cold. In control. Killer.

Channel Jigsaw. Channel Jigsaw.]

Don't you know where he is, Christopher? You were -- you were there.

[He’s forcing a smile under the mask and willing himself to feel it. That was good -- how do you like them apples?]

Josh -- [He lifts his hands.] -- ...is gone!

[And then he lowers both hands, and drops one to the toolbelt. Taps a finger on it. Erratically. Shakes his head, less erratically. Makes himself forget for a second that there's nothing all that threatening in the bag but a syringe for Sam and a backup; it's a bluff, helps him advance - doesn't want to use either.

And starts forward again. Watching for Chris to move. Hoping he'll give. Even if Chris doesn't bolt, it'll be... leverage, maybe.]

Shouldn't have come back, Christopher...

There's nothing here for you.

[Nothing to see, here.

Holds the other hand forward, jumping the gun on trying to catch Chris's board when and if it swings.]

[sosilly]

[ Chris' legs feel like rubber when the psycho starts laughing like that, like he's not sure if he's uncontrollably pleased a potential victim has come looking for him or if he's annoyed to be interrupted in the middle of-- whatever it was he was doing. It doesn't really matter the reason for the outburst; it sounds choked and strange and Chris feels vulnerable just listening to it.

The killer coming towards him, lumbering and loud, shakes him all over again, reminding his brain that this is a dire circumstance and that he isn't exactly equipped to handle it, but he holds position, swallowing around his heart in his throat. He raises the board a little higher, trying to steady himself.

The distorted voice vibrates throughout the barn when the killer speaks again, taunting, throwing Chris' stupid questions back on him. Yes, he knows Josh is gone. That reality is scorched on his brain, the blood and guts to prove it reappearing again and again under his eyelids whenever Chris squeezes his eyes shut. But he came back anyway. And maybe he's a complete idiot to head back into the danger zone, but it's too late to turn back. He's gritting his teeth when the killer throws up his hands and needlessly reminds him that Josh is gone, but he can't help the pathetic noise that escapes his lips, a shuddering breath bordering on a sob.

But he has to act. This isn't a ghost, the kind of thing he's good at shrugging off as fake; this is a person, a physical body with the capability and the drive to hurt him and more of his friends, so he has to act. He shouldn't have hesitated before. He should have rushed in and finished this before it even started.

He watches those fingers tap at the belt, mind racing with horrible possibilities. And the killer's getting closer again. And Chris has to do something. He counts three breaths. ]

Yeah? Well. [ Another heavy breath, painful and shattered. ] Well, I'm here.

[ Chris hasn't been in many fights in his life, but he sees the other hand rises as some sort of defense, so when he swings, he swings in the hopes of bypassing it, and when he swings, he swings hard. He's not as coordinated as Matt or Mike might have been, but he puts all the force of his fear into the attack. The head is the best target. If he can get the guy to stumble, then he'll have the upper-hand for at least a second. So, he aims for the head, sweeping the board down and across in the hopes of hitting both the killer's temple and ear. ]

[goregies]

[He can't say he's waiting, during those three breath's worth of time. He's urging, mentally pressing for Chris to hurry up and move, give him something to work with, come on, come on...

And then the swing comes.

All right -- !

-- Is what he thinks, but it's a good swing, all right.

A much better one than he was prepared for Chris to muster. He turns his head a little toward the board as it's incoming, he tries to grab it with under-measured force, and it connects. Hard. The turn keeps it from getting him smack in the temple, and the edge of the mask absorbs a little of the shock.

Not enough not to put a blast of white light on his head, send him stumbling in the direction of the swing with a shout garbled by the modulator. He immediately grabs the side of the mask - less-than-half-conscious panic that it's been knocked lose - never mind the toolbelt...

And the ringing in his head clears to hearing his own breathing. Dry, rising, furious heaving. Some of it at himself, ha ha ha, right! Fuckin' right. That shouldn't have happened, nooo. Chris is spooked. Chris isn't a fighting sort. This is still screwing up, this is still screwing up, this is still screwing up, and the brunt of the immediate part of it at Chris - some element of totally irrational betrayal, but that'll fizzle out fast. The instinct to retaliate, though...

No -- one of the breaths sticks -- ohhhhoho, no you don't...!

He's thinking screw it and gathering himself to bull-rush Chris -- in the last of a couple of beats off-balance and with his back still not unstraightened that'll allow Chris another move.]