postictal: (peekaboo | masked)
Tim W█████ ([personal profile] postictal) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2015-08-12 10:13 am

deeper and deeper we go, where there is no light [open to multiple]

[Takes place after the events here.]

They drift without purchase and run without purpose.

Something is missing.

They are not whole. But they are and they must be; they can see themselves, they can hear the warped susurrus of their thoughts as they run without running, spun and torn from the body that is not theirs, except for the times where it is.

But where is it. Where are they.

It is too dark and they run, sluicing through forest and trees, searching for the splash of red on brown and black that is their friend, or even the slash of black and the pale glow of white that would denote the thing that follows them, the thing that they hate. But there is nothing. Simply black, endless, a formless landscape stitched over the murmur of a ragged-torn mind. Trees loom, jagged. Always those burned-black sheathes of wood and leaves, stretching ever upward, obscuring all light, branches to sky.

They run in a blur of gray and white and black, their form ashen, their face bright and smooth, dark eyes staring.

There is something ahead.

There is something ahead, and they slam into it, feral and frantic and afraid.

L̙͖̦̫ͩͬͦ̏̀o̸͕͇̒ͨͦ̉o̰̺̠̳̮̤͗͑ͯ́k͖̯̑̏̔̇͂ͬ̉ ̷͈̉͆́̋̇̓̊b̋̃͒ͬ̅ͯ͆ë̗̩̖̺̹̎͐͒̓̿̈h̘͂ͦ̄̍̄̐͆i͙̳̤͛̌ͥͧ̈́̃n̖̠d̯̺̥̗ͪ́̆ ̯̺͈̟ͫ͆̈̃ͫ̏̇ỹ̹̣͙̂ͪ̅͟o̗̯̟̗u̬͉̼̼͓͇͑͢ͅ

[ooc: Tim's other self has currently been detached from his body and is now roaming about the dreamspace - mostly in the interest of avoiding the cats, who are curious as to what they're about. They'll come into your dreams. They'll come into anyone's dreams. Or you might end up in theirs. It's up to you, really. They're not likely to be pleased about it either way.]
johnny_truant: (you are on my shit list)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-12 06:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Don't worry, it's only Johnny.

He takes the blow strangely well, even though it knocks him forward; he stumbles, nearly falls, regains his balance and turns on his weight to face the intruder.

The masked creature has staggered into his territory, a geometrically unsound number of walls growing up around them, twisting into h allways, stairs that go nowhere. Johnny regards the familiar painted features with a look of contempt.

"You're not welcome here," he hisses, and with a flick of his wrist he rends the floor beneath them.
johnny_truant: (caged)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-12 06:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Johnny lets out a vicious growl as it seizes his legs, bringing him down, spilling both of them into the gash he's made. Just as well. This is his territory, too.

They fall for a long time, the thing still clinging to him, Johnny twisting and kicking, until they land on the soft, ashen floor, the impact hard but nothing broken. The house doesn't want them broken. Not yet.

Johnny lashes out, wrenching one of his legs free and aiming a sharp kick to the creature's face. It lands with a hard crack, and though this should dislodge or break the mask, the mask remains intact.
johnny_truant: (seductive)

strangulation and blood (also a general cw for this thread, it's gonna be violent and unsettling)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-12 06:50 pm (UTC)(link)
It climbs over him like an insect, fingers snagging at him, and as their hands fit tightly around his throat Johnny bites his lip as he strains away. He tastes iron, and he looks up at the mask, and his lips split into a wild, predatory smile, teeth lined with red.

He raises the floor up around them, curling it back to strike the creature hard enough to dislodge it.

Johnny gets up, but he doesn't run. He faces the thing.

"Try harder," he snarls, still grinning.
johnny_truant: (oh please)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-12 07:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Johnny lets it bring him down, laughs as his knees hit the floor, grabbing back, wrapping his free hand into its jacket and holding on as tight as he can.

"This is not for you," he taunts, a howl and a whisper, something uncoiling from the seething dark behind him, filling his mouth with the taste of rust. He licks blood from his lips, releases its jacket, and aims a punch to its throat. It's strong, it's not human, but it still has borrowed human parts, soft and vulnerable, and Johnny knows which parts of those hurt easiest.
johnny_truant: (angry | intense)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-13 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
An agonized grunt escapes him, hissing out between his teeth, and he twists along with the pressure to keep the bone from breaking, shooting a wild glare up at his enemy, his free hand slamming down onto the floor. It separates and reshapes around the creature's leg, holding him down, allowing Johnny to flip onto his back, brace his feet against its chest and kick back, wrenching himself free.

johnny_truant: (havin fun)

johnny is scary

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-13 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
Johnny steps back, observing his prey, enjoying the novelty of being the predator for a change.

"Didn't see that coming, did you?" he sneers, stepping just outside arm's reach. He crouches down to get on eye level. "You come into my house."

He's hilarious.

He could crush the invader right now, but it's too easy, especially after all the trouble they've given him. He straightens up and lets him go with a wave of his hand.

"Come on, asshole," he says, grinning, manic and monstrous. "Come play."
johnny_truant: (direct | unafraid)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-15 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
Johnny's grin doesn't hit his eyes, which get wider and hungrier as the thing launches itself at him.

He recoils, letting it connect, riding the momentum back into a wall that wasn't there before. Actually, make that a door. He smirks, raw and dangerous, as the door opens on impact and they fall, not through, but down, for maximum disorientation. Down, deeper, into the dark and the cold.
johnny_truant: (fight me)

I'll see that tw and raise you some serious suicide ideation

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-15 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
"That's it," he hisses as they plummet, not bothering to resist as the creature wraps its hands around his throat. Instead he grabs their arms and drags himself even closer. "This is where we belong," he whispers in its ear. "This is where we're meant to be."

Everything is unfolding so simply here, like it was always meant to. Like he'd been told. This is where he was always destined to end up.

Still, the body will fight, and as they sink deeper, slow toward some unknown landing, Johnny struggles, switching from eager to vicious in no time. He lashes a hand across the creature's face, dealing no damage, but a tendril of twisted wood and brick and steel whips out to follow the motion, tearing them apart again. Johnny lands unsteadily, picks himself up, staring into the void, searching for that little spot of white.
johnny_truant: (minotaur)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-16 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)
They'll have to rely on sound more than sight here, lightless void that it is. Johnny feels vibrations in his chest with every step, a deep, animal rumbling, a growl building higher and harder as his fingers flex restlessly. His teeth ache. He's hungry for blood.

"Come and get me," he snarls into the darkness. He can't tell, doesn't care, whether it's a taunt meant to trap his enemy, or a legitimate request. Either way he's impatient. "Come on."
johnny_truant: (fuck you)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-16 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Johnny falls for the feint, lunging forward, unbalanced when there's nothing to meet him, and thrown entirely off his feet when it tackles him from its new angle. He laughs even as it wrestles him down. "Clever beast," he sneers, sounding like an entirely different person now, little leftovers of Raymond crawling out of him. He twists and writhes, he could call the house up again but why spoil it so soon? Let the thing have its little victory.
johnny_truant: (disbelief | pain | disgust)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-08-16 06:30 pm (UTC)(link)
He lets out an involuntary gasping grunt when it drives its knee into his chest, forcing the air out of him. His hands are scraped up and bruised from the treatment but it doesn't matter, he doesn't need his little flourishes and gestures to bid the house to act.

He shifts as it presses him hard into the floor and wills that the floor should rise up around him, beat the creature back, crush it for good.

The floor ripples beneath them but it does no such thing. Johnny's eyes blink wide as he realizes the structure is entwining him, both of them, holding them in place. The creature is not being forced back but is now fastened atop him, perfectly poised to wring his neck.

"No!" he rages, twisting one hand free and trying to shove the creature off his chest. Creaking strands of wood wind around his waist, holding him down. He lets out a strangled scream at the betrayal, even though it had to come, he should have known.

The house belongs to no one, Johnny Truant.

Least of all you.
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | afraid | recoil)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-08-13 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
It was a mistake to leave Korvosa. At times she thinks it was a mistake to leave even Kintargo. Ahead lies freedom, but ahead and around her are also dangers of which she'd only ever heard sailors' stories. She'd thought life at the inn was intolerable, but here, now, alone on the Bloodsworn Vale, a life of servitude strikes her as preferable to a violent death. It was folly to come up here at all, let alone by herself, but there was no one she could trust. Better to brave the wild animals than to hire a guide who might well turn out to be a slave trader.

She gives a violent start at an imagined noise, peering into the darkness of the mountain pass. She can see, of course, but so can the other things that prowl the night. It's nothing, there's nothing there, she's going to be alright, she only has to last this night and a day and she'll reach the plains. She's going to get through this, and she's going to find a village and she's going to -- do something with herself, live free, and all she has to do is make it through the night --

She hears the thing too late, turns to face it too late, sees it too late. She shrieks, half expecting teeth, but it's the blunt impact of a whole body that sends her sprawling to the ground, scrambling for purchase to stand back up, get out from under it, get away. "No!" she shouts, not knowing what she's denying but knowing its intentions must be evil.
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | angry | crocodile)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-08-13 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
"Get off me!" Asmodia's mind sparks with unanswered, half-formed questions that fizzle out into panic that doesn't allow her to complete non-vital thoughts like who is this and what do they want. That it's not an animal, that she doesn't feel claws and teeth tearing into her, is little comfort. She convulses, tail striking his legs like a whip as her hands come up to dig into the fingers wrapped around one of her horns, trying to pry them off.
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | afraid | recoil)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-08-13 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
The first blow stuns her momentarily, bright light lancing across her vision at the impact of head against stony ground. It doesn't seem satisfied with her momentarily failure to struggle, though, but lifts up her head to bash it again. She flings a hand up to scrabble at its face, fingernails encountering something hard and ungiving, and then her head hits the ground again and she thinks she can feel something wet on her scalp. This can't be how it ends, she will not end like this!

Her component pouch remains strapped to her belt and her hands find it as she writhes, trying to twist from its grip. She bites her tongue at the next blow, but there, her fingers find the nutshells and drag them out as she practically jabs a hand into his gut with the magic gesture and shouts, "Confound you!"
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | afraid | recoil)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-08-13 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Her patron must be watching over her; Asmodia can't quite believe that she fired off the spell successfully, nor that she was lucky enough for it to have the desired effect. She doesn't stick around to see if he'll get up and try again, but scrambles to her feet. Get away, get away, get away! Sparing only a wild-eyed glance over her shoulder, she bolts down the mountain trail...or tries to. It's as though her limbs lack any strength; hard as she pushes herself she might as well be running through mud as through air.
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | confused | doubtful)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-08-17 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
They'll soon find it's no longer woodland at all. The cry Asmodia lets out as fingers wrap around her ankle echoes against unseen walls in the darkness, and as she falls forward she bangs into something hard and smooth, hands flying out to grab hold of it. She anchors herself on the desk, papers going flying, and tries alternately to yank and kick her leg out of her attacker's grasp. "Let go, let go!" she yells. This thing, what is it, why doesn't she recognize what it is, and where are the others?! "Help, I'm in here, help!" she cries, but none of the others come, it is only her and this assailant in the darkened office off the false Hall of Breaching, surrounded by puddles of viscous black liquid and neatly stacked piles of human bones amidst the general debris. The place reeks of death, and she wonders if this thing is one of the devils that inhabit it...or one of their earlier victims.
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | angry | crocodile)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-08-19 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
"Get off!" it's an animal's snarl that escapes her as she claws at the desk, refusing to go down. Trapped, trapped here with this thing in the dark and the stench of a place that isn't a place. She remembers the walls closing in on them, and so they are now -- she remembers the creeping noises, and the screams of the others trapped here echoing from the other rooms, and the feeling of being watched, always being watched --

She doesn't know how to help herself, but she does. She makes a convulsive movement, losing her grip on the desk as a twisted, ugly word in a language spoken by the damned wrenches its way up her throat. Something shapeless and dark appears over the two of them, but it's her attacker on whom it focuses.
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | afraid | recoil)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-08-20 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
Asmodia's face contorts into an expression of disgust and -- yes, pity as she watches the creature recoil from whatever its own mind has conjured to kill it. She takes the moment to put more distance and the desk between them, knowing that there's still a chance it will not die from this, knowing now that she can hit it again with her magic if need be, and again, and again, she remembers now, she is not helpless --

It is an ugly death, for how clean it is. That's always how it is with this spell. There's no scream this time, only the twitching of a dying body. She's glad, as she always is, that she can't see what her victim attacker sees. Asmodia lets herself breathe a sigh of relief when the body stops moving; she remains trapped on this hellish demiplane but she can allow herself the luxury of a moment of relief, can't she?


Cold dread twists in her gut and she doesn't even know why at first, only that something is wrong as it can be. It's not until she looks up from the dead body that she sees -- something looking back at her. The wispy shape that formed at her command a moment ago is forming again now and she knows full well what it is but still can't look away, can't convince herself that it's hers to dismiss when it forms into something she doesn't even recognize. This isn't right, that isn't her fear before her. It's not Asmodeus that reaches for her but something primally wrong with arms that outstretch --

"No --!!" The cry is choked off, unfinished as the dream spirals away to nothing in the absence of its dreamer.