ᴛʜᴇ sᴡᴀᴍᴘ ᴛʜɪɴɢ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
houmaprotector) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2018-12-19 06:16 pm
houmaprotector) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2018-12-19 06:16 pm
Entry tags:
He's just a ghost dressed in weeds.
Who?: Alec Holland
Where?: The Inn
When?: December 22.
Open To: Kat.
Warnings: Violence, Fire, Character Death.
There's a big green man sitting at one of the tables. Alec doesn't really need to be indoors, it just makes it easier to stay out of the cold. He's feeling it more significantly and while he cuts an imposing figure, he's careful to clean up his plant drippings. Hell. They'll make good fuel for the fire. He's found pieces of cloth and made a sort of sack.
So instead he sits and tries to not be as obtrusive as he feels, idly studying his wrist device and wishing for smaller roots to examine it in detail...
That's when the device clicks and his hand drops to the front of the table he's sitting at. His fingers flex because he's looking at himself. Himself. He's died twice but he's not scarred or with Abigail. This is years old. He's wearing a shirt, a lab coat. When was the last time I had a lab coat? I-
It's so quick. His voice mutters - I've got to disarm it! and he's crawling under the table and there's...dynamite! One big hand slams down hard on the table heedless of if he's doing any damage. I've got to disarm it!
The explosion happens in less then a second and the screen fills with fire.
It ends up with a close up on an eye - his eye before it melted from his socket...
And it ends.
He's breathing filling the air with oxygen around him. He calms himself - and then - continuing to stare, grunts. What the fuck
He looks up.
"...Well."
Where?: The Inn
When?: December 22.
Open To: Kat.
Warnings: Violence, Fire, Character Death.
There's a big green man sitting at one of the tables. Alec doesn't really need to be indoors, it just makes it easier to stay out of the cold. He's feeling it more significantly and while he cuts an imposing figure, he's careful to clean up his plant drippings. Hell. They'll make good fuel for the fire. He's found pieces of cloth and made a sort of sack.
So instead he sits and tries to not be as obtrusive as he feels, idly studying his wrist device and wishing for smaller roots to examine it in detail...
That's when the device clicks and his hand drops to the front of the table he's sitting at. His fingers flex because he's looking at himself. Himself. He's died twice but he's not scarred or with Abigail. This is years old. He's wearing a shirt, a lab coat. When was the last time I had a lab coat? I-
It's so quick. His voice mutters - I've got to disarm it! and he's crawling under the table and there's...dynamite! One big hand slams down hard on the table heedless of if he's doing any damage. I've got to disarm it!
The explosion happens in less then a second and the screen fills with fire.
It ends up with a close up on an eye - his eye before it melted from his socket...
And it ends.
He's breathing filling the air with oxygen around him. He calms himself - and then - continuing to stare, grunts. What the fuck
He looks up.
"...Well."