The wind is charged with the energy of the lustful...

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

~The winds in Level two sweep Severus and Wesley into the air until they are slammed momentarily against a cliff face, then whipped up again. Other shades abound here, and the first time they are struck, it surprises them to receive a jarring shock. The gale doesn't die, but it swells and heaves like waves, and once Wes has the opportunity to touch ground, he allows himself to go limp, slack on the ground, letting the gusts blow across his prone form. He screams through the din to Snape, hoping he can hear him.~

This is impossible! We're going to have to cling to one another if we hope to escape this level!

Comments

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

Well...

*Wesley does, in fact, have something in mind. Ever since he managed to pull himself away from the dreadful hauntings within the houses on 1, he's thought about where to go and what to do. It's out of the question to climb out of Hell; if it was that easy, no one would be down there. However, he does know that this Hell is just one of many hell dimensions, and where there's a way in to a dimension, there's a way out. It all hinges on finding the key- an incantation, an enchanted object, a portal- that allows travel out of Hell.*

Are you familiar with Dante's great work? If his writing is still relevant, then there's a city, something of a capital of Hell, if you will, located in Level 6. My intention is to reach it. I believe-

*he stops, wondering how far he should take their conversation. It's just possible that this gentleman might not want out of Hell. To be honest, Wesley's not entirely certain HE wants out, either. It's difficult to know what is waiting back among the living. For all he knows, returning to the living world might be just as painful as being in Hell. Still, he feels driven to do SOMETHING. And if he could somehow get out... if he could somehow still be useful in the "good fight," as his former colleagues phrased it...*

We might be able to leave. I believe there may be a way out of Hell.

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

Leave Hell?

*Snape is taken aback by the possibility. For a moment, he can't think beyond the mere words; they are almost meaningless. After a moment, however, he seems to grasp the concept. Of course, Pryce's idea of using magic might not pan out; Snape learned long ago that his magic was ineffectual. Still, perhaps if the magic stems from Hell itself...*

Do you think it is possible to do so?

*Snape's been here for some time; he hasn't really any concept of how long, but he has the sense that he's probably been dead for at least a few years. And eternity is a terribly long time to spend wandering the levels of Hell. It is, in his opinion, a pretty long shot...but it's the only shot he has.*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

I can't really say, but it is reasonable to assume it's possible. It's certainly better than passively remaining here where we're no good to anyone. I've seen that ghosts, intangible as they are, can be very helpful to the living if they've a mind to. I'd rather help someone in some small way than be here where I can't do anything but feel sorry for myself.

*Wes seems to realize he's perhaps revealed a bit more of himself than he really intended, and stops suddenly, which is just as well, really. He's feeling very ill and it's all he can do to turn away before he retches violently. He sighs as he sees the unmistakeable flecks of blood. He runs his hand through his hair and is not surprised to find hanks of it in his fingers. A rash, faint but unmistakable, has broken across his flesh.*

Poisoning, I think,

*he intones, making conversation.*

Most likely chemical. Or radiation, possibly. What do you think?

*He seems to realize how morbid his little game might seem, and frowns.*

Sorry, it's something I began to pass the time. Guessing at what they're doing to us. Everyone seems to suffer it at the same time, have you noticed? Misery loves company, they say...

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

I hadn't really noticed.

*Snape thinks briefly about it, remembering that he had only been vaguely aware of the odd torments that came and went.*

I wasn't exactly paying attention to anyone else until you came along. I barely noticed some of them when they happened to me. They're not pleasant, but they're routine, and I take them as they...

*Snape turns away briefly to retch.*

...come.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*Wesley begins to respond, but is overcome by a coughing fit. He turns to look at Snape (after wiping his mouth clean of the nastiness) and can't help but gag, and he can only assume he looks every bit as ghastly.*

I think it's quite evident we'll be doing no traveling until this sickness has run its course. I must say, it IS effectively debilitating, isn't it?

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape leans his head wearily against their sheltering rock, sighing. He doesn't feel like moving anytime soon and is glad Wesley doesn't, either.*

Very. But then again, so have they all, in the end.

*He sighs again, this time because he's resigning himself to Hell's latest all-round torture.*

No wonder we've met no one else wandering around. It's difficult enough to break free of your level, let alone walk around like this.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

Walking around isn't really an option on this level, anyway. Once we're feeling better, I think we should find a way out of here as quickly as possible. We'll undoubtedly be shocked a bit, but it's the only way to advance. We just need to stay together and not allow any of the shades here to drag us away with them. Staying low works to avoid the shades, but it slows us down.

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape runs his fingers through his hair, and thick strands of it come away in his fingers. He sighs resignedly again and lifts his hand to the wind, allowing the tempest to accept the offering into itself.*

I don't remember which way came from, either. Once you get caught up in the wind, it's difficult to keep a sense of direction. Perhaps crawling would be better? At least then we might be able to keep going in a more or less straight line, and we could orient ourselves to the various rock formations.

*Snape's coversation is actually quite broken; he pauses between each sentence to either vomit bloody bile or to catch his breath, or both.*