RE: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 6: Tidal Cove]
08-06-2017, 02:32 AM
Holly opened her mouth to curse, but ended up screaming instead when she saw her arm embedded in the table part of the picnic table. Or what she identified as the picnic table, seeing as it was something she was sitting on (in, she belatedly realized), but there were, edges that had no place being on a picnic table. Not to mention, there was a Holly that had no place being sort of in a picnic table.
It didn’t hurt, her brain supplied, but her mouth still had some scream left and continued on for a while, until she managed to think to transmute the table into a feeling of solidarity that filled her chest and promptly popped when she realized she didn’t have anybody to feel a sense of solidarity with.
Her arm looked fine. There didn’t seem to be any chunks of her missing. All in all, not too bad. For falling an impossible distance and melding with a table.
The air was remarkably clear.
Maybe...it was time to go back to the boat.
-
“Hhhho-lllllllllllllllll-gh-y.”
There was a static in the Countess’ voice that continued even when she stopped talking. Then an unnecessary clearing of the throat that sounded much more like someone tapping a microphone. “kch-kch Su-pp-o-o-o-se y-gkh-you un-der-sssssssss-shhhhhk-tand – “ She broke off. This was perhaps, she realized, not a state to use words with too many syllables. As in, more than one. But the point was moot now, given her uncooperative conversation partner.
“Hhho-lly, wh-ere khhhh-are y-ou gkch-oing,” Countess kchhh’ed out. “Hooo-ll-y, list-n. Fzzzt-lly, st-op, do y-o-u hhhhhkch-ear me? Hhhhh-oll-y.”
But, half an island away, Holly walked on. The Countess wasn’t exactly concerned about that anymore, however, as her last static-y shout had roused Arnold into a state of flight or fight, and he had elected to fight. A broken, regenerating man was not necessarily something to worry about. If she had been altogether there, anyways.
She wasn’t, at the moment. Not by a long shot.
-
The man who had stumbled into the boat was unrecognizably the mysterious other occupant of the island. To Algernon, he was somewhat of a blur, partly because of the strands of purple drifting past his eyes. He tried to wipe it off, but his silk-sweating palms did not help matters at all. “Hello,” he said to be polite, but it sounded something more like “Hmrf,” and he went back to pulling silk off his arms. There was a growing pile next to his feet. Maybe he could start a business after all this was over. Ha. Ha.
The man was still standing, hovering, really. He was making sounds not unlike the sounds Algernon had made, and so Algernon glanced up patiently.
“Ah, aaag,” said the man. After a pause, “Aaaaal, a-non. Gggggg...”
For the sake of time, Algernon interrupted, “You know me?” There was a pause and a nod from the man. Algernon was reasonably sure that was a nod. The man was doing a lack of aggressive behavior, so the answer seemed to be a given, but Algernon asked anyways: “Are we friends?”
A longer pause. Another nod.
“Cool,” Algernon said. This didn’t seem suitably enough to say. He thought a little. “I’m sweating silk,” he added.
The man didn’t respond with a nod this time, and didn’t sit down even when Algernon scooted over and patted the seat beside him. So he went back to pulling silk off of his body, accompanied only by the sounds of the bustling witch.
When it started, the fog, the island, the everything, all three turned their eyes outside and watched. There went one. And then two. Even with just the fog, they all continued to stare until bits and pieces of the island started coming back. Here comes one. And then two. And then...three…?
Before Algernon could even attempt to ponder this, however, a voice interrupted him in his head, where he was reasonably sure the voice shouldn’t have been. Well, not just the voice, but concepts, feelings, definitely too foreign to belong to him, there was anticipation, excitement, longing, and…uh…
Not for you, a more recognizable voice in his head said, and then started engaging the less recognizable one in a mental conversation that Algernon was sure he was meant to ignore but honestly couldn’t because it was going on in his mind and he squirmed uncomfortably and squeezed his eyes shut, but it was alright, because a few minutes after, he had no idea why he had felt so uncomfortable at all.
Maybe he was tired. Maybe, he could just sleep. Just a little.
It didn’t hurt, her brain supplied, but her mouth still had some scream left and continued on for a while, until she managed to think to transmute the table into a feeling of solidarity that filled her chest and promptly popped when she realized she didn’t have anybody to feel a sense of solidarity with.
Her arm looked fine. There didn’t seem to be any chunks of her missing. All in all, not too bad. For falling an impossible distance and melding with a table.
The air was remarkably clear.
Maybe...it was time to go back to the boat.
-
“Hhhho-lllllllllllllllll-gh-y.”
There was a static in the Countess’ voice that continued even when she stopped talking. Then an unnecessary clearing of the throat that sounded much more like someone tapping a microphone. “kch-kch Su-pp-o-o-o-se y-gkh-you un-der-sssssssss-shhhhhk-tand – “ She broke off. This was perhaps, she realized, not a state to use words with too many syllables. As in, more than one. But the point was moot now, given her uncooperative conversation partner.
“Hhho-lly, wh-ere khhhh-are y-ou gkch-oing,” Countess kchhh’ed out. “Hooo-ll-y, list-n. Fzzzt-lly, st-op, do y-o-u hhhhhkch-ear me? Hhhhh-oll-y.”
But, half an island away, Holly walked on. The Countess wasn’t exactly concerned about that anymore, however, as her last static-y shout had roused Arnold into a state of flight or fight, and he had elected to fight. A broken, regenerating man was not necessarily something to worry about. If she had been altogether there, anyways.
She wasn’t, at the moment. Not by a long shot.
-
The man who had stumbled into the boat was unrecognizably the mysterious other occupant of the island. To Algernon, he was somewhat of a blur, partly because of the strands of purple drifting past his eyes. He tried to wipe it off, but his silk-sweating palms did not help matters at all. “Hello,” he said to be polite, but it sounded something more like “Hmrf,” and he went back to pulling silk off his arms. There was a growing pile next to his feet. Maybe he could start a business after all this was over. Ha. Ha.
The man was still standing, hovering, really. He was making sounds not unlike the sounds Algernon had made, and so Algernon glanced up patiently.
“Ah, aaag,” said the man. After a pause, “Aaaaal, a-non. Gggggg...”
For the sake of time, Algernon interrupted, “You know me?” There was a pause and a nod from the man. Algernon was reasonably sure that was a nod. The man was doing a lack of aggressive behavior, so the answer seemed to be a given, but Algernon asked anyways: “Are we friends?”
A longer pause. Another nod.
“Cool,” Algernon said. This didn’t seem suitably enough to say. He thought a little. “I’m sweating silk,” he added.
The man didn’t respond with a nod this time, and didn’t sit down even when Algernon scooted over and patted the seat beside him. So he went back to pulling silk off of his body, accompanied only by the sounds of the bustling witch.
When it started, the fog, the island, the everything, all three turned their eyes outside and watched. There went one. And then two. Even with just the fog, they all continued to stare until bits and pieces of the island started coming back. Here comes one. And then two. And then...three…?
Before Algernon could even attempt to ponder this, however, a voice interrupted him in his head, where he was reasonably sure the voice shouldn’t have been. Well, not just the voice, but concepts, feelings, definitely too foreign to belong to him, there was anticipation, excitement, longing, and…uh…
Not for you, a more recognizable voice in his head said, and then started engaging the less recognizable one in a mental conversation that Algernon was sure he was meant to ignore but honestly couldn’t because it was going on in his mind and he squirmed uncomfortably and squeezed his eyes shut, but it was alright, because a few minutes after, he had no idea why he had felt so uncomfortable at all.
Maybe he was tired. Maybe, he could just sleep. Just a little.