A Little Bit of History Repeating [OOC: CW: Body horror hallucination]
The memory itself doesn't seem that bad. Three people sitting at a table. Todd himself in a button down and jeans, nursing a coffee between his hands. On the bench next to him is a tall, pale, lanky man wearing a black t shirt and bright yellow jacket, his plate piled with ice-cream and fruits and syrup and being ignored in favour of animated talking.
Opposite them is a beautiful woman who seems far too cool for the two dorks she was with. Her afro is carefully styled up and she seems far more serious and engaged than the men.
"Can you feel it? Feel anything at all?" The man in the yellow jacket encourages. "Close your eyes. Can you feel anything?"
Todd sighs. "I feel... That I need to go to the bathroom." He stands up and moves away, going out to the bathroom at the back of the diner. He actually just stands in there for a while, leaning on his hands on the sink and looking at the mirror. Then not looking at the mirror. Then looking again.
His phone rings.
He looks confused as he digs it. "Amanda?" The confusion melts into worry. "What's happening?" And starts to morph into fear. "Who's coming? Stay where you are, I'll find you, you're gonna be fine, you're gonna be-"
And he drops the phone with a pained gasp, staring at his hand. It's his memory, so it's visible, audible as the skin on his hand pops, blisters and starts to burn, skin and flesh peeling open as it burnt out from the middle and started to engulf the whole hand.
He collapses to the ground, staring in horror at the smoking, red mess that continues to sizzle and screams, screams with pain and horror as the burning endlessly consumes his hands and arms and it feels like it goes on forever.
And then it all starts again.
Oddly, Todd is just sitting and watching with something akin to quiet acceptance.
Todd Brotzman | Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency
[OOC: CW: Body horror hallucination]
The memory itself doesn't seem that bad. Three people sitting at a table. Todd himself in a button down and jeans, nursing a coffee between his hands. On the bench next to him is a tall, pale, lanky man wearing a black t shirt and bright yellow jacket, his plate piled with ice-cream and fruits and syrup and being ignored in favour of animated talking.
Opposite them is a beautiful woman who seems far too cool for the two dorks she was with. Her afro is carefully styled up and she seems far more serious and engaged than the men.
"Can you feel it? Feel anything at all?" The man in the yellow jacket encourages. "Close your eyes. Can you feel anything?"
Todd sighs. "I feel... That I need to go to the bathroom." He stands up and moves away, going out to the bathroom at the back of the diner. He actually just stands in there for a while, leaning on his hands on the sink and looking at the mirror. Then not looking at the mirror. Then looking again.
His phone rings.
He looks confused as he digs it. "Amanda?" The confusion melts into worry. "What's happening?" And starts to morph into fear. "Who's coming? Stay where you are, I'll find you, you're gonna be fine, you're gonna be-"
And he drops the phone with a pained gasp, staring at his hand. It's his memory, so it's visible, audible as the skin on his hand pops, blisters and starts to burn, skin and flesh peeling open as it burnt out from the middle and started to engulf the whole hand.
He collapses to the ground, staring in horror at the smoking, red mess that continues to sizzle and screams, screams with pain and horror as the burning endlessly consumes his hands and arms and it feels like it goes on forever.
And then it all starts again.
Oddly, Todd is just sitting and watching with something akin to quiet acceptance.