Downward Spiral

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

~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.~

Comments

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

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.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

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?

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

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.*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

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?

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*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.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*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.

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

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.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

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

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

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

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

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!

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*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.*