Entry tags:
ic inbox ( ryslig )
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ZHAR-PTITSA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 66.234.111.217 *** ZHAR-PTITSA has joined 66.234.111.217 <ZHAR-PTITSA> Well? <ZHAR-PTITSA> Hurry up. | ||||
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ZHAR-PTITSA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 66.234.111.217 *** ZHAR-PTITSA has joined 66.234.111.217 <ZHAR-PTITSA> Well? <ZHAR-PTITSA> Hurry up. | ||||
during the shadening (cw: intrusive thoughts of violence)
[They are an echo of his final transformation to an arachne. They shiver through the air, an invisible force that claws at his mind and his heart. They are a whisper in his ear: Suffer, it hisses, suffer like I have, like all the rest before me and all who will come after. Fugo sets his jaw, so tight it makes his molars ache, and uses a handkerchief to roughly wipe away the smear of blood that drips from his nose.
It's been a bad fucking week. Basil is gone, disappeared into thin air. So many of his friends have lost their bodies, isolated and alone, struggling to keep their heads above the riptide of hatred and resentment that wants to pull them under. And Fugo wants to hurt people.]
[Left unoccupied, when slighted and in a dark mood, his mind inevitably wanders to violence. He daydreams about snapping necks, throwing annoying coworkers out the third story window of Kaumro Holdings, of slamming his fists into the faces of scowling old men who wear their steely gray hair combed back and away from their sharp profiles. Over and over again, until his knuckles are black and blue under the slick of their blood.
The worst part is that this is nothing new. Fugo has always wanted to hurt people. If anything, this is the second closest he has been to Purple Haze since being brought to Ryslig. None of it surprises him. He shoves it all to the back of his mind and buries it. But the grave is too shallow. It keeps coming back.]
[It keeps coming back.]
[In the dark of the night, approximately fifteen minutes after the latest pulse, he can feel it inch closer and closer to a breaking point. He can't let it. Something has to give, but he absolutely cannot let this take him.]
zacharov
[There is a long pause.]
you awake?