Casualty of Migration
Jan. 3rd, 2010 12:24 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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~It's surprising how losing your hair suddenly makes you realise how vain you once were. As the final clump comes out in his hand (rather be bald than have a stupid-looking fringe) and his skin start splitting along its newly-healed seams he briefly considers lying back and letting whatever else is in this Level take him. But escape is necessary and he won't let a little thing like being too weak to breathe stop him. God he was glad he wasn't with anyone right now. If anybody saw what was happening... downstairs... they'd never take him seriously again.
Making it through Seven had been difficult and his feet were nearly bloody stumps from all the sharp garbage, but pain was something he had gotten used to. The dull heart-wrenching ache was worse than a stabbing- at least that would have been something he could appreciate- and he had wanted to tear off his own feet to stop it, but gritty resolve won out and he had made it to Six, wearing nothing but a threadbare smock and linen trousers, found among the sewage of the lower level.
The first thing he does upon arrival is sear his own feet on one of the more hidden bulls- anything to distract from their pain and the nausea and the general brain-freezing depression of suffering through a Hell worse than anything he did to his boys. It's pretty much all his body can stand and he crumples against a wall, allowing himself an unhappy groan. His insects crawl over his body as if he were already a corpse and he doesn't bother to slap them away; like a dying wildebeest.~
Making it through Seven had been difficult and his feet were nearly bloody stumps from all the sharp garbage, but pain was something he had gotten used to. The dull heart-wrenching ache was worse than a stabbing- at least that would have been something he could appreciate- and he had wanted to tear off his own feet to stop it, but gritty resolve won out and he had made it to Six, wearing nothing but a threadbare smock and linen trousers, found among the sewage of the lower level.
The first thing he does upon arrival is sear his own feet on one of the more hidden bulls- anything to distract from their pain and the nausea and the general brain-freezing depression of suffering through a Hell worse than anything he did to his boys. It's pretty much all his body can stand and he crumples against a wall, allowing himself an unhappy groan. His insects crawl over his body as if he were already a corpse and he doesn't bother to slap them away; like a dying wildebeest.~
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Date: 2010-01-05 02:44 pm (UTC)He pulls himself up in an attempt at greeting, despite how much it hurts.*
Do you need any assistance at all?
*His eyes quickly flit over the two men, and linger just slightly longer on Regulus. Young, attractive (or would be under different circumstances), and certainly submissive from what he can see. Maybe old habits needn't die hard after all.*
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Date: 2010-01-06 12:39 am (UTC)No, thank you, that's quite unnecessary...
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Date: 2010-01-06 12:57 am (UTC)Please sir. We're broken and vulnerable.
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Date: 2010-01-06 01:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 07:22 am (UTC)*He brushes insects off his body with a new casuality, as if picking a piece of lint off a suit. He's starting to feel better already*
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Date: 2010-01-06 07:49 am (UTC)We're not wandering, per se, sir. We're headed somewhere.
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Date: 2010-01-06 07:56 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-01-06 03:06 pm (UTC)Wherever the two of you are heading, it would do me a huge favour if I could tag along. Give me a leg up, would you?
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Date: 2010-01-08 09:59 am (UTC)*hops out of his wagon to do so, though he regrets this motion immediately and crumples a bit, swearing and staggering in a zig-zag before finally, gingerly, reaching this new face, his cracked and frost-bitten hand out-stretched*
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Date: 2010-01-08 10:49 am (UTC)Thank you. You're from 9?
*Surprised that someone who seems so friendly is from a lower level than himself; but then he of all should know that appearances are deceiving.*
You've come very far.
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Date: 2010-01-09 09:32 am (UTC)*Barty stops, crossing his eyes as a bee hovers above his freckled nose, he pauses for a very long moment, watching, raising up his hands in an attempt to squish it, but it deftly escapes his death clap at the last moment*
So what are you in for, Bee Boy?
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