( this building is, at least, a few steps above the last one he was in
there's an ache in the back of Brian's neck, the sign of a bruise only barely concealed by the dirty yellow hoodie he awoke in. the scratches on his hands tell stories unimaginable. the rattling of one last pill against the bottle in his pocket rings in his ears like loud bells. )
(going up)
... Well.
( it's... Something. the second floor stretches on farther than he imagined, doors lining the walls and is that the smell of food? Brian can't remember the last time he had a full meal and, for once, he can recognize the growing pain in his stomach as hunger, not anxiousness.
his feet lead him towards the source almost automatically; he's impressed with the grandeur of the room, almost too much to be real, however his aesthetic commentary is cut short the moment he sits, a large jug of milk and china container manifesting before him and his silverware, prompting him to jump.
he's suspicious - but the smell of food, of real, warm, breakfast after literal years drowns out his concerns. and though his choice is that of a plain bowl of cereal, it's more than enough for the boy in the yellow hood. )
(2) the roof
( they call it l’appel du vide. the call of the void.
the urge to jump.
his eyes stopped scanning the surroundings and the people below long before he felt the unconscious pull to stand closer to the edge. tentative steps took him towards it before that thing's very willpower brought him one step back and, with a gulp, brian was reminded of his last fall.
we deserved it, you know)
Yeah,
( his voice is low, affected by something akin to guilt and though he's aware there is no one else around, the admission matters.
his eyes dart down at the grass below and he feels the knot in his gut again. he sits, watching again from what feels like a safe(r) position.
the void can wait another while. )
(3) the (edge of) forest
( he's here. who is to say Alex isn't as well?
that thing lingered in the woods and part of Brian is genuinely too scared to just march in there and see how long it takes for either of them to show up. but another part of him - the part that urges him to pull up his black ski mask and head up to the forest trail unprepared - speaks louder. he's not done yet. they're not done yet.
brian t. | marble hornets | ota
( this building is, at least, a few steps above the last one he was in
there's an ache in the back of Brian's neck, the sign of a bruise only barely concealed by the dirty yellow hoodie he awoke in. the scratches on his hands tell stories unimaginable. the rattling of one last pill against the bottle in his pocket rings in his ears like loud bells. )
( going up )
... Well.
( it's... Something. the second floor stretches on farther than he imagined, doors lining the walls and is that the smell of food? Brian can't remember the last time he had a full meal and, for once, he can recognize the growing pain in his stomach as hunger, not anxiousness.
his feet lead him towards the source almost automatically; he's impressed with the grandeur of the room, almost too much to be real, however his aesthetic commentary is cut short the moment he sits, a large jug of milk and china container manifesting before him and his silverware, prompting him to jump.
he's suspicious - but the smell of food, of real, warm, breakfast after literal years drowns out his concerns. and though his choice is that of a plain bowl of cereal, it's more than enough for the boy in the yellow hood. )
(2) the roof
( they call it l’appel du vide. the call of the void.
the urge to jump.
his eyes stopped scanning the surroundings and the people below long before he felt the unconscious pull to stand closer to the edge. tentative steps took him towards it before that thing's very willpower brought him one step back and, with a gulp, brian was reminded of his last fall.
we deserved it, you know )
Yeah,
( his voice is low, affected by something akin to guilt and though he's aware there is no one else around, the admission matters.
his eyes dart down at the grass below and he feels the knot in his gut again. he sits, watching again from what feels like a safe(r) position.
the void can wait another while. )
(3) the (edge of) forest
( he's here. who is to say Alex isn't as well?
that thing lingered in the woods and part of Brian is genuinely too scared to just march in there and see how long it takes for either of them to show up. but another part of him - the part that urges him to pull up his black ski mask and head up to the forest trail unprepared - speaks louder. he's not done yet. they're not done yet.
bad choices: 10. brian: 0 )
(4) wild card
( fite him (ง •̀_•́)ง )