Johnny feels like a total shit for acting this way, especially with Daniel, who is just the nicest guy, goddammit, why does he push everyone away like this? But he can't quite get a fix on himself here, he's so locked into this stay-alive/get-the-fuck-outta-my-way attitude, it's ugly but it's him, isn't it?
At least he's actually trying to stay alive.
He unfolds himself, wanting to look less vulnerable, and just as his shoes scrape over the ashy floor he hears something else, something scratching at the walls he's made, just beyond them - with no clear opening to shoot at them, they've started crawling on up, probably encroaching on his weird little architectural shell.
Well, one hopes it's them. And not something else.
He looks dully toward the sound for several moments before lifting a hand in a lazy, almost theatrical flourish.
The wall's outward shift cannot be seen from in here, but it can be felt in the low vibration of the floor, and heard in the grinding creak of wood against stone, and the wet crunch of half-putrefied bodies.
He drops his head and looks away, his physicality dramatically changed, from curled up to practically lounging, like a fucking Roman emperor.
pretty gross sounds/imagery toward the end here
Johnny feels like a total shit for acting this way, especially with Daniel, who is just the nicest guy, goddammit, why does he push everyone away like this? But he can't quite get a fix on himself here, he's so locked into this stay-alive/get-the-fuck-outta-my-way attitude, it's ugly but it's him, isn't it?
At least he's actually trying to stay alive.
He unfolds himself, wanting to look less vulnerable, and just as his shoes scrape over the ashy floor he hears something else, something scratching at the walls he's made, just beyond them - with no clear opening to shoot at them, they've started crawling on up, probably encroaching on his weird little architectural shell.
Well, one hopes it's them. And not
something else.He looks dully toward the sound for several moments before lifting a hand in a lazy, almost theatrical flourish.
The wall's outward shift cannot be seen from in here, but it can be felt in the low vibration of the floor, and heard in the grinding creak of wood against stone, and the wet crunch of half-putrefied bodies.
He drops his head and looks away, his physicality dramatically changed, from curled up to practically lounging, like a fucking Roman emperor.