tdr_backup | Downward Spiral

Current Mood: distressed
Current Location: Edge of Level 4

Downward Spiral

~Snape regains consciousness very slowly; he's not sure if he'd died or just suffered enough head trauma to knock him out, but decides it doesn't matter. He hurts all over, and he's sure there are a lot of broken bones, but at least no one is trying to eat him. He knows there's something he needs to do, but he can't remember what it is. Very slowly and painfully, he drags himself over to the cliff's edge and huddles miserably against the rocks.

He remembers how his body practically threw itself off the cliff; even now, his limbs are twitching as if trying to jump again, but he's not sure if that's a matter of rebellion or of involuntary reactions to pain. And he still needs to do something, though he has no idea how he's to do it in his condition, should he remember what it is.

He tries to think harder and is rewarded with a foggy image. Yes, he remembers now. He ought to find Wesley. He tries to lift his head to look around but the pain and dizziness is terrible, and his neck doesn't seem to want to do its job. His jaw is broken and hangs limply; he can't form any words, even if he could get his lungs to force enough air from him to yell. He groans softly and collapses, hoping Wesley isn't too far away.~

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*Wesley comes back to consciousness with the painful realization that dying in Hell doesn't remain permanent. Nor does it set you back to your fitting torment though, and that, at least, is a blessing of sorts. He manages to lift his head and roll his eyes up the cliff face. Oh, yes, he fell...

He slides his right arm around to gather it beneath himself as he contemplates what happened. He knows it wasn't a voluntary plummet, so what the hell was it? Before he can think too long about it, though, his arm gives out and he collapses back down to the ground. So.

He turns his head to look out at Level 4. Mountains. More climbing. More falling. He lets his head fall once more, and moans.*

Bugger all.

*Snape lies as still as possible as he begins to heal. The process is slow but he hasn't much choice in the matter. At least they made it to Level 4, though with all these mountains, he hopes his limbs are his to control again by the time he's ready to tackle them. Right now, he decides to look at the bright side of lying in a useless, crumpled heap at the foot of a steep mountain--his own body can't betray him again, no matter how hard it tries. And it does try, his limbs jerking sometimes in an effort to move of their own accord. He has decided that this must be a symptom of Hell's newest round of torture, and as he does with all of the cyclic tortures, he accepts it with a determined resignation to see it through. They never last, after all, so eventually his body will be his to command again. Of course, then he has to deal with another torment.

Wesley--where was he? Was he, too, lying broken at the base of this cliff? Snape decides that, as soon as he's able to move about more freely, he will follow the edge of the cliff in an effort to find him. Hopefully, very little actual climbing will be needed....*

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*Wesley wakes again to find himself initially feeling much improved- it's amazing how fast one heals here in Hell. Of course, he reasons, that's so the demons can have their fun...

He looks about him and realizes his limbs aren't going to cooperate. It's as if they've a mind of their own (which isn't a comfortable nor a new feeling to him) and progress is going to be painstakingly slow. Still, he gets awkwardly to his feet and begins to search for his companion. He can't imagine being stuck in Hell alone. He can't stand to be alone-

He stops abruptly, a bit falteringly as his legs really don't want to obey, and gazes at the mining shaft entrance yawning ahead of him. Greed, mines, that does make some sense. But where is Snape? Did he wander inside? Did his unruly body take him inside? He hesitates, and scans the cliff base. Snape's black cloak would make it damn near impossible to pick him out from the shadows. He strains his ears for the sound of Snape's voice.*

*Snape's body has finally healed enough to be dangerous to itself again. He wishes he could just lie still and let the healing process finish, but his body has other ideas. His legs and arms twitch and, despite his efforts to stop them, drag him in short jerks away from the relative safety of his previous position. Fortunately, he still seems to have control of his now-healed jaw, which he uses to roundly curse the rest of him.*

Stop, you damn traitors! Don't you dare!

*But, of course, they do, and he grunts and complains as they drag him along. He narrowly avoids falling into a narrow shaft by exerting the utmost effort to roll onto his back, and for a moment, he thinks he has them stumped. However, his legs and arms decide to work in tandem to roll him back onto his chest for easier dragging.*

Oh, no you don't!

*Snape's attempts to keep himself on his back and his body's attempt to flip him the other way means that there is a lot of rolling and, of course, cursing. Snape tries to be mindful of the pits and shafts but sooner or later realizes he's likely to lose this battle of wills. He calls out desperately for help.*

Wesley!

SNAPE!!!

*Wesley hears Snape's cry for help and begins running in the direction of the cry, but suddenly his legs redirect his efforts and slam!

As he picks himself up from the ground after running full force into the cliff from which he had just fled, Wesley muses on the similarities between himself in this ridiculous situation and any one of the inane, abused cartoon characters that Gunn loved to watch on Cartoon Network.*

I AM NOT THAT DAMNED COYOTE! *he challenges, and determinedly forces his legs to carry him once more to where he finds Snape desperately clawing and scrabbling, trying not to fall into the open mine shaft. He manages to make it to his side, quickly assessing that he had a bad fall and he reaches down to him to help him to his feet. As he steps forward and leans down, he thinks confidently that it's just mind over matter... just as his feet carry two steps over the empty space of the mine shaft and he plummets with a less than confident wail.*

*Snape is momentarily distracted by Wesley and his limbs find that, for a split second, they have total control. It is all the time they need. His arms and legs push simultaneously and roll him after Wesley.

Snape grunts as he mercifully lands on something soft this time. Unfortunately, for Wesley, he _is_ the something soft.*

Sorry, *Snape apologizes, and finds that he can command his body to roll off his companion. Now that he's lying at the bottom of a shaft, where he apparently can't, at this moment, fall any farther, his legs and arms seem content to be under his control, for now.*

*Wes gives a grunt but makes no further sound. He's distracted by the noise echoing through the tunnels- voices, moans, shouts, and wailing. He glances at Snape as if to say "quietly" but his right hand compulsively lifts and flies to his throat, causing Wes to utter a startled and strangled cry. He lifts his left hand to try to correct the problem and does, ripping the strangling hand from his throat only to have his left hand nearly follow through by poking his eyes out. He seems to gain some control then, and manages to ask* Are you ok? Is anything broken? I'm not sure we can stay here, but maybe-

*he cuts off, listening as the voices grow louder.*

*Snape drags himself up against the edge of the tunnel, pushing up against the rock and making himself as small as he can. He, too, has heard the voices and doesn't want to be noticed. He drags his cloak up and over the two of them, as if to blend in with the shadows and rock of the mine.*

I haven't healed completely from my original fall, *he whispers.* I would prefer a little more time, but I'm not sure we're going to get it.

*For the first time since they've been traveling together, Snape notices Wesley looking a little more than simply rattled. He's trying to remain still as the voices draw ever nearer, but his rebellious limbs are making it challenging. It's a matter of losing control, and Wesley DOES NOT like it. Even when he was completely smashed, he managed to... weeeell, ok,,,*

We're going to have to fight, *he hisses.* There's no way they're not going to know we're here.

*He's having a tough time containing his flailling limbs, and they're making enough noise for five of them. He's also becoming a tad more hysterical as he informs you he's not accustomed to hiding, and it's far better to get it over with.*

Well, then, let's do it.

*Snape isn't sure how he's going to manage, since he's long ago lost anything resembling a weapon, and he's not yet learned how to fight from Wesley, but he can see that Wesley is obviously right about the noise and his thrashing about like a wounded bull. And yet....

He drags himself upright, bracing himself against the wall of the shaft and arranges his cloak so that his face is shadowed and menacing. He grips Wesley tight--tighter, actually, than he intends in an effort to keep his control over his body--and hauls him up.*

I have a plan. If these demons are relatively minor and fairly stupid, maybe we can bluff our way past them. You're my prisoner. Play along.

*Wes doesn't give his opinion one way or the other on Snape's plan, and from the way he struggles, it's difficult to discern if he's a good actor going along with the plan or if it's just his rebelling limbs. Either way, it's not long before he's stomped on Snape's foot.

Meanwhile, the voices are coming closer. From the sound of it, there's at least three individuals, and to Wesley's trained ear, it's obvious they're human or a close proximity thereof.* Snape, *he hisses,* they're human, humanoid, or at least- sentient in a human sense. *He straightens but doesn't wrench out of Snape's grasp. Now it's clear he is going along with the prisoner/guard scenario.*

*Snape cries out as Wesley inadvertantly sends shooting pain up already damaged foot and leg, and his breath hisses in an effort to not cry out. His expression changes greatly; teeth bared, he pins Wesley against the wall as the group of shades appear around a bend, carrying and bartering various body parts. They pause as Snape, cloaked and hooded, hunches in front of his "victim", which he begins to threaten.

You think you can escape me so easily? *he snarls.* Thought you could sneak away?

*He whirls on the shades, spit flying as he snaps,* What are you looking at?

*The shades back away, taken by surprise at the stranger's fury, then scurry off. Snape's expression changes immediately, the anger gone, replaced by a look of pain. His body sags from the knees down, almost squatting.*

I wish I could collapse.

I think you can, now, for a moment anyway. Did you see what they had? Those weren't demon parts in their bleeding hands, they were human. I think they're mining for human corpses.

*Wesley stares after the retreating shades for a moment, thoroughly distracted now from his foray into depression. He turns back to the wall and runs his hand up and down the surface, intrigued.*

Nice masquerade, by the way, *he murmurs, but he's only half paying attention to Snape. He begins experimentally scraping at the cave wall.*

No, I can't. My knees are locked.

*He figures this is because his body, sensing that sitting would provide relief, is rebelling again.*

They were trading them as well, like Wizard Cards. I heard one say he'd trade them a spleen for a left.... *He pauses.* Nevermind. Anyway, this _is_ the level of the greedy, so I suppose we shouldn't be surprised that there would be _something_ these shades would use in place of money.

That's irony, I suppose. They're valuing the organs they dig up more than the organs which belong to them.

*He takes a tentative step forward, then another.*

We need to make some sort of progress here. Perhaps we can masquerade as denizens if we make some minor adjustments.

*He proceeds to smear his face with dirt from the floor, but his arms and hands, of course, conspire against him and he ends up with a black eye and a bloody nose. The dirt does make him look more like one of the miners, though, and he finds it's not difficult to scrape his palms bloody with them flailing about seeking injury.*

Did you see how their hands bled? I didn't see a pickaxe on them- do you suppose they scrape through the rock barehanded?

I suppose they must. Giving them a pickaxe would make it too easy for them. We are, after all, _supposed_ to suffer here.

*Snape straightens and turns around, rubbing dirt onto his body as Wesley does, with some minor issues with his arms, which adds to his already still-bruised body. He starts to scrape his hands against the walls carefully but instead his hands start tearing at it, as Wesley had guessed the miners do.*

Oh, bugger.

*Rock and body parts are torn free as Snape helplessly and against his will begins to dig. He tries not to dwell on the various organs and bits of flesh he is inadvertantly uncovering and shredding.*

Ok, stop, this isn't working well.

*grabs Snape's arm and hauls him back. He visibly fights to remain still, his legs wanting to walk him into the wall; instead, he drops to the ground, bringing Snape with him.*

Let's just sit a moment. We could both use some healing.

*seconds tick by in oppressive silence.*

What's your favorite color?

*Snape is grateful that Wesley has forced him to stop; he stares at his mangled hands, torn and bleeding. It takes a moment for Wesley's question to sink in.*

I haven't given it much thought.

You have something dangling from your left ear; I think it flew there when I was digging.

*Calmly and with almost chilling indifference, Wesley flips the gore from his ear. The act only goes slightly amiss; he winds up boxing himself on the ear. He doesn't seem to notice the inconvenience anymore. He seems to have found focus somehow.*

Mine's blue. Terribly cliche', I know. I've never been terribly imaginative.

No? Perhaps you're more imaginative in other areas, more important areas. I've not given much thought to colors, but I did experiment with potions.

I wouldn't worry overly much about your cliche' taste in color.

Potions? I've dabbled some with potions. We study a good many potions at the Academy, you know. What's your focus?

I'm a Potions Master; that _was_ my focus.
What was yours at the Academy? Antidotes?

No, I'm a l-

*But before he can finish his response, his Entire body pitces forward and before Snape can react, he has him held fast in a deadly competent stranglehold.*

Snape! I can't control myself! You've got to break free!

*Snape's response is to reach up and start strangling himself, but at the same time, his feet start kicking Wesley anywhere they can reach; whether this is something Snape planned or if it was part of his body's revolution is difficult to say, since Snape is having a difficult time articulating anything. It's likely that Snape's body might just want to take them both down.*

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Downward Spiral

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