[PSL] time travel, time travel
Jun. 16th, 2020 06:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curriculum_fictae[ Martin had always known that Lukas would kill him in the end. If not along the way, then surely at the end, once he'd gotten what he wanted out of Martin, whatever that turned out to be. When the Lonely rose up to swallow him, he'd accepted his impending death with ... what?
What did he have left, really? Numbness, mostly. A hallucination of Jon in the Lonely, looking for him, but - but that was impossible, ridiculous. His mind playing cruel tricks. He settled himself down in the frigid surf, knees drawn up close to his chest, unshed tears frozen to his cheeks and lashes.
And then. A door. A door that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist. That he shouldn't take at all. The Lonely was terrible, yes, but it was quiet, and it was peaceful. Martin was aligned enough with it by now to very nearly enjoy it, in a strange and terrible way. The Spiral would be infinitely worse than this quiet beach.
But ... it was hope, too. In a strange way. Hope enough that Martin found himself turning the door handle and stepping through, leaving the false comfort of the Lonely behind him.
The transition was unpleasant. Long. But Martin couldn't remember it after; he only remembered stumbling out through the door of a supply closet somewhere deep in the Archives, blinking up at the dim bulbs that pretended to be sufficient. What time was it? Had he escaped? Where were Lukas and Elias now?
And where was Jon? ]
What did he have left, really? Numbness, mostly. A hallucination of Jon in the Lonely, looking for him, but - but that was impossible, ridiculous. His mind playing cruel tricks. He settled himself down in the frigid surf, knees drawn up close to his chest, unshed tears frozen to his cheeks and lashes.
And then. A door. A door that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist. That he shouldn't take at all. The Lonely was terrible, yes, but it was quiet, and it was peaceful. Martin was aligned enough with it by now to very nearly enjoy it, in a strange and terrible way. The Spiral would be infinitely worse than this quiet beach.
But ... it was hope, too. In a strange way. Hope enough that Martin found himself turning the door handle and stepping through, leaving the false comfort of the Lonely behind him.
The transition was unpleasant. Long. But Martin couldn't remember it after; he only remembered stumbling out through the door of a supply closet somewhere deep in the Archives, blinking up at the dim bulbs that pretended to be sufficient. What time was it? Had he escaped? Where were Lukas and Elias now?
And where was Jon? ]
1/2 (Somewhere above)
Date: 2020-08-04 04:13 am (UTC)They take a moment to focus. To sink into the Who, remind the body how to Be Her.
With a shudder and gasping, echoing whimper the creature Who Is Sasha? becomes solidly, and notable Sasha. Her cold eyes watch the last stragglers down the hall filing out amidst the rising and falling tones of the siren.
She rises, looking at the walking bags of skin and Identities, and then slowly turns back to the Archive door. She rattles the door once, twice, and lifts her hand to tear it from its hinges when a soft, pointed cough stops her dead.
No. It wasn't the cough.
It was being pinned by a gaze on her back.
She looks up, cornered, and the thing calling itself Elias smiles, though she only sees the baring of teeth and the glowing, terrible eyes on the figure approaching.]
No... I didn't mean to.
[She feels the Skin that Makes Her Sasha slough off, revealing the pathetic creature of long, sharp, curving limbs like pipes and hooks. But the gaze continues and goes deeper.]
"I'm sure you didn't." [The Watcher says, tone patronizingly paternal.
She whimpers.]
Please... please don't. I'll. I'll leave! I'll never... I'll never come back.
"That? I am quite sure of. Still, I believe this little.. imposition upon my hospitality has gone on too long."
[She feels herself flayed, ripped under that stare. It looks for the core of who she is, and she shudders, keening, echoing whines of her pain and her despair beg when her words fail.
In the end, the real mistake is the panicked lunge she makes, claws extended towards the Watcher. With disdain he simply observes Them. Sees that at the core of her, she is no one and nothing.
And in the terrible, agonizing instant before her death, she Knew that too.]